


Fractured

by InterestingCorpse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Castiel, Castiel in the Bunker, Eating Disorders, Embarassed Sam, First Time, First Time Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Human Castiel, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Self-Harm, Top Dean, Virgin Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterestingCorpse/pseuds/InterestingCorpse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is human and isn't coping very well. The only thing he can control is what he eats.</p><p>Canon divergent: Alternate season 9</p><p>Spoilers from the end of season 8 onwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N I don't own anything so please don't sue. Just fancied writing some angsty destiel.

 

  

Castiel is human, alive and living in the bunker with Sam and Dean. Two of those facts make him incredibly happy; one feels like utter failure. Cas cant heal anyone, read minds, fly or anything else that made him useful to the Winchesters. He’s not even helpful on hunts, stumbling over and moving slowly so that he’s more of a hindrance than a help. He almost got Dean hurt when the hunter had tackled him to the ground just before the werewolf they were hunting could side swipe Cas. On the ride home, Dean cheerfully offered him shotgun and Sam patted him on the shoulder like he was a small frightened child that needed encouragement. In a way, he knew he was and the truth of that made him feel pathetic. He said ‘That’s ok’ and slid into the back, desperate for the familiarity and safety of the bunker and his bedroom where he could hide and try to deal with the maddening continual flux of his human emotions.

  ‘It’s ok you know, Cas, it was your first hunt as a human. You’ll get better, won’t he, Sam?’ Dean had said while watching Cas in his rear view mirror, a false smile plastered across his face like he was trying to convince himself instead of Castiel. Shrugging his shoulders and making a non-committal sound, Cas sinks back into the safe shadows of the Impala and tries to stop his hands from shaking, ignoring Dean’s concerned glances and Sam’s attempt to encourage him.

    Once they return to the bunker, he tells the boys that he’ll stay in there for now and do research, catalogue the objects in the archives, translate old texts; he’ll help in that way. Kevin’s back living with his mother since the boys saved her from Crowley so Cas has taken over his old bedroom. Much to his relief, Dean and Sam have decided to take it slow when it comes to the hunting, easier cases, not too far away, as Sam is still recovering from the trials. Sam had had to convince Dean to let him come along on the werewolf hunt, something for which Castiel was eternally grateful. He might’ve got Dean killed.

   Cas did what he could to fix Sam with the last of his Grace that Metatron hadn’t been able to capture  but the hunter was still moving slower than normal, his cheeks hollow and purple shadows set deep beneath his eyes. Dean was treating his brother with more patience and care than usual and, despite his refusals and gentle mocking, Sam seems grateful to be given the chance to convalesce. Cas knew that soon the men would get fidgety, restless in the ways that hunters do and the thought of them, Dean especially, going out and risking their lives when Cas was powerless to heal their injuries filled him with an uncomfortable knot of dread in his stomach and an unsteady rhythm in his heart. He found that working tirelessly to find healing spells, powerful wards, creatures weaknesses, anything he can to help the hunters with their mission made him feel calmer, more in control of these new emotions and anxieties.

   ‘That’d be great, Cas, saves me from doing the boring stuff,’ Dean tells him as he claps his hand on Cas’s shoulders and gives him that beautiful smile that makes Cas’s chest swell and the intriguing but confusing flesh between his thighs twitch and pulse.

   That is another thing; carnal desires, while not entirely unfamiliar given his secret obsession with Dean Winchester, are much easier to ignore when you are an angel. Angels do have sex, no matter what Sam and Dean may think, but not in the same physical way that humans do; all that rubbing and sweating and moaning that Cas has witnessed from porn (he may have watched more than just the pizza man) and humans as he watched over humanity for millennia never seemed particularly interesting or exciting (‘Repetition’ as he once told Kevin) until he acquired his vessel, now his body, and met Dean. Whereas human sex seems to be mostly about the physical, angel sex is more an entwining of Grace, a metaphysical connection. Interesting, yes, but Castiel never found any of the other angels intriguing or adorably exasperating like he finds Dean.  And now, being human, he’s struggling to control and understand the overwhelming aches and throbs of arousal that pulse through him in Dean’s presence.

   Eating is very difficult too. An urge that is so natural to humans, and adored by Dean, is perplexing and frightening to Cas. When he had consumed hundreds of burgers because of Famine’s influence on Jimmy, once the urge had passed, Cas had simply removed the food from his body using his ‘angel mojo’ as Dean calls it and that was that. The human version of this process is… different. Disgusting, actually. The first time it happened, Cas found himself close to losing the most recently ingested food from his mouth and the resulting sensation was of searing stomach cramps that left him bent double on the toilet and feeling weak, pathetic.

   He tries to get used to it, he really does, taking books into the bathroom with him or playing games on the phone that Dean gave him and showed him how to use (‘No, Cas, you have to push on the icon to make it work, not just randomly jab at it.’) but he still felt sick at the more unpleasant procedures at the human body so he decides that the logical step to stopping this from happening is to stop eating. Simple.

   It’s surprisingly easy and immediately makes Cas feel better, more like himself. He passes on dinner one night (steak and potatoes that Dean plows into with much gusto while Sam slowly pecks away, his plate piled with plenty of vegetables and a smaller steak that Dean called ‘girl-sized’ provoking one of Sam’s so called bitch faces where his eyebrows draw together, the skin between whirling into a rounded pucker and his lips following suit) citing a stomach ache as the cause for his disinterest. Sam offers up some possible remedies that he can procure but Cas politely waves the offer away with a smile and goes back to his room to continue cataloging and repairing various archive files and objects, happy to be immersed in a task that will be helpful to the Winchesters.

   The next day, Sam catches wind of a possible poltergeist near to the Kentucky-Missouri border that’s targeting children so the brothers pack up and get ready to go.

   ‘We should only be gone overnight, two days max. You gonna be ok on your own here?’ Dean asked him as he packed up his bag, filling it with rock salt loaded shotguns, holy water, the demon knife and anything else he thought they may need. Castiel saw the first aid kit go in and had to twist his mouth in order to keep the wave of nausea at bay. He tried to school his features into something more neutral but Dean saw his expression and his eyebrows drew together in a worried expression. ‘Hey, Cas, you ok? I mean, Sam can stay with you and I can take this one on my own-‘

  ‘No, no, it’s fine Dean. Just… be careful, please.’ Castiel pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, wet it then let it slip out through his teeth. Dean stared at him strangely for a moment then the jovial mask was back and he was telling Cas to help himself to the beer in the fridge and calling for Sam to get his ass shifting.

   A few minutes later and the boys are gone, leaving Cas alone in the silence of the bunker. For a moment Cas thinks about having a beer and watching some television or trying to learn more about computers but instead he goes back to his room, shuts the door and continues to work through the huge piles of yellowing files, sorting them into categories and making notes on anything that could be useful, filling book after book with notes on wendigos, djinns, demons, vampires. Plotting out all possible means of execution, weaknesses, general lore; the rigidity of the process is soothing to him and he finds himself getting lost in a blur of lists, graphs and legends. He doesn’t eat or his room again until he hears Sam and Dean return. The last time he ate anything was four days ago and his stomach is aching, clenching and throbbing with a hunger so desperate Cas has nothing to compare it to. It gnaws and claws at him and, when the smell of takeout food hits his nostrils, the twist of his gut makes him gasp and bend over, his eyes watering at the pain. Being sure to drink plenty of cold water (urinating isn’t nearly so frightening), Cas imagines it filling him in order to soothe his stomach but soon enough even that won’t control the searing cramps. But he won’t give in. This hurt, this need, it makes him feel focussed, in control of the alien wants and urges that crash over him like waves. The pain gives him something to cling to so he doesn’t drown. He has to have this or else he has nothing; he needs to be in control.

   That night he excuses himself from eating, stating that he ate earlier in the day. Cas is pleased when neither Winchester says anything or looks suspicious as he sits with them and sips ice cold water, enjoying the crunch of the ice between his teeth. Cas swallows the ice in lumps, the density of it filling him up, the cold purifying and deadening his insides as it goes down. He decides that munching on ice is a great trick and hums happily as it numbs the inside of his desperate stomach.

   ‘Dude, you’re gonna crack your teeth and have to discover the awesome world of toothache. Trust me, nothing compares to having some masked bastard drilling into your gums.’ Dean winks at him and takes another bite of his burrito, causing lumps of onion and tomato to drop out and plop onto the table in front of him. This close, with his new-found fascination and abhorrence of food, Castiel finally understands why Sam glares at Dean so much when he eats. Dean’s a sloppy eater and constantly talks with his mouth full, getting food all over his fingers and sauce on his chin as he recounts the hunt to Cas with all the vigour of a man come back from a ten year war, Sam smiling and rolling his eyes as Dean gleefully exaggerates things, like how he leapt ten feet in the air to whack the ghost with an iron crowbar or how Sam, Sammy as Dean always calls him, was utterly useless with his lighter and almost caught fire.

   ‘You’re so full of crap, Dean! You were the one tripped over a gravestone and landed on your face.’ Dean takes an extra huge bite then says ‘Diversionary tactic, Sammy! You know nothing,’ and grins as Sam screws his face up at Dean’s stuffed mouth.

   Castiel catches a whiff of burrito and sees the chewed up lumps of meat and plants, runny with some sort of white and red sauce and has to run back to his room, to his private bathroom, just managing to lock the door behind him before he vomits up the water in his stomach, retching uselessly on yellow bile as the sight, sounds and smells of food wash over him again and again, the images torturous inside his head.

   ‘Cas? Hey, you ok?’ Cas hears Dean yell through the door, ‘Open up, man, we need to see if you’re ok.’

   ‘Have you got a stomach bug, Cas? Coz I can get you something for it,’ Sam calls through the door as someone, probably Dean, rattles the handle.

   Cas wipes his mouth, scared that Dean will notice the lack of food in his vomit, and stands up to try to open the lock but his head spins and everything strobes white and black and then there’s just darkness.

                                           


	2. Chapter Two

When Cas awoke, he found himself fully-clothed in bed with the blankets tucked around him and Dean asleep in a chair next to his bed. His head was resting against his hand and he was gently snoring. Cas tried to sit up quickly but found that the room span and got strangely blurry so he rolled onto his side instead and took the opportunity to watch Dean.

   His hunter was looking a little more freckled than usual, probably due to spending time in the sun during the hunt, and his nose was a little pink. Cas let his eyes rove over Dean’s face, drinking in every little detail he could while Dean was asleep. His soft lips were parted a little and the bottom lip shone a little in the subdued light thrown by the bedside lamp, like he’d licked it in his sleep. Once again, Cas was winded by the fierce ache of want that pulsed through his body and, without thinking, he reached out to stroke his hand down Dean’s cheek. Biting his bottom lip, Cas felt his chest expand impossibly, like his heart would burst his torso open, as he gently trailed two fingers down the golden skin of Dean’s face, marvelling at how soft it was, at the dichotomy of rough stubble and delicate skin, at all the inherent contradictions in Dean that Cas wanted, loved.

   Castiel was in love with Dean. It wasn’t a revelation to him; this was the man Cas had fallen for, literally and figuratively, and no angel does that on a whim. The difference, though, between feeling love for this beautiful man while being an angel and then as a human being was staggering, a revelation. Before Metatron attempted his spell (and thankfully failed) Cas had always looked forward to seeing Dean, had wanted to touch him, feel him splayed beneath his vessel, all this as a matter of course, but now…

    ‘Cas… What…’ Cas snatched his hand back as Dean’s eyes flickered open, bleary with sleep, stunning as the rainforest at dusk. Cas felt the unfamiliar heat as blood rushed to stain his cheeks pink as he mumbled ‘You had a bug on your face.’

   Dean looked confused, unbelieving, for a moment and then his brow smoothed out as he watched Cas turn and settle himself into the bed.

   ‘How’re you feeling now? Still wanna hurl?’

   ‘Hurl what?’ Cas asked as he focused his vision on the smooth white ceiling. He heard that pause that meant he’d misunderstood something and turned his head in time to see Dean roll his eyes.

   ‘I meant do you need to be sick again? Are you ok now?’

   ‘I’m fine, Dean.’

   The bed covers rustled as Dean leant forward, resting his clasped hands on the bed as he leaned in. ‘Cas, you know, if you’re struggling, I mean, man, you must be. Being human and all, must be hard for you. But you gotta talk to me, you need to tell us when something’s wrong ‘cause you don’t know the signs and you can’t heal yourself.’ Dean smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that made Cas ache, sympathy, empathy shining clear in his eyes. Cas’ stomach clenched again in that way that made his head throb and he couldn’t help the quiet gasp as his body cramped, stomach aching for sustenance.

   ‘Hey, hey, you’re ok. I think you have a stomach bug. You getting achey feelings in your stomach, like cramping?’ Dean’s eyes were wide and golden-green in the low light and Cas had to clamp down on the intense desire to kiss him, to take his lip between his teeth and bite down until Dean moaned and, oh… Oh…

   Cas felt his face heat up again as he realised that the sensitive feeling was centred around his cock which was hardening rapidly under the blankets. Frightened that Dean would see and would realise what was happening, Cas rolled away from him, curling into a ball and desperately tried to will the inopportune erection away.

   ‘Cas, it’s ok, you’ll be-‘

   ‘I’m fine, Dean,’ Cas bit out with more venom than he meant to, ‘I just want to sleep.’

   Cas squeezed his eyes shut and tried to go to sleep, his heart aching as Dean switched the lamp off and left the room, slowly closing the door behind him.

                                                                                                                       *     *     *

   ‘How’s he doing?’ Sam asked as Dean wandered into the kitchen. As much as he would never admit to it, Dean liked the domesticity of having a kitchen, of having somewhere he could cook and sit comfortably with his brother and angel. With Cas, Dean mentally corrected himself; Castiel wasn’t an angel any more.

   ‘I don’t know, man. Physically, I think he’s just got a stomach bug but mentally?’ Dean shook his head and started to pull saucepans, plates, a spatula and frying pan out of the cupboards.

   ‘It’s gonna take him a while to adjust, Dean. I mean, he’s never had a stomach flu before, he’s never, fuck, never had to eat or shower or brush his teeth before. It has to be a lot to take in.’ Sam got up and opened the fridge door, grabbing two beers, holding one out to Dean who accepted it gladly.

   ‘I know that, it’s just…’ Dean trailed off then shook his head and opened his beer, taking a long pull; he didn’t want to talk about this. Talking never helped anything. Doing was better, doing was functional. He went to the fridge and pulled out the ingredients for a stew he’d found a recipe for online and, no, no one needed to know he was compiling a recipe list on his computer. Computers were for porn and research, not Martha-Stewart-type articles on how to prepare a lemon and thyme roast chicken or the best way to slow roast a pork joint.

   Naturally, Sammy needed to talk things out, had to keep pushing, had to know exactly what was going through Dean’s head. Sometimes Dean hated him a little for that.

   ‘Dean, you can’t blame yourself for this; he chose to be our ally, he knew the risks and-‘

   ‘And what, Sam? That makes it ok that now he’s stuck here with us? That he can get sick, get hurt?’ Dean flushed as his voice cracked, ‘That one day he’ll die?’

   Dean shook his head again and blinked, facing away from Sam, and began to peel potatoes, viciously digging the peeler into the vegetable as he tried to subjugate the emotions that were bubbling up inside him. He hunched his shoulders as he heard Sam sigh and stand up, desperate for his little brother to, for once, get the message that he didn’t want to talk. Not now, not about this.

   ‘Dean,’ Sam prompted when Dean wouldn’t turn around, ‘You know…’

   He sighed and grabbed another peeler and started to peel potatoes alongside his brother. Dean let go of the breath he was holding and tried to focus on the task at hand. Get the gammon boiling in a saucepan, get the vegetables simmering in with the stock on a low heat, chop up the cooked chicken breast and try not to think about the gaping hole he felt in his chest at the thought of anything ever happening to Cas.


	3. Chapter Three

It has been two weeks since Castiel stopped eating when he finally comprehends that he’s going to have to change his tactics. After passing out a couple more times, thankfully in his bedroom where he wasn’t seen, Castiel realises that he will have to eat something each day otherwise Sam and Dean will realise what’s going on and will force him to eat. The thought of that brings tears to his eyes as he finds himself curled up in a ball on the floor, whimpering and biting his lip hard enough to bleed as he clutches his stomach, trying to push away the feeling of terror and desperation and a hunger so visceral it’s like someone has filled his insides with shards of glass and they are slicing and tearing into his inner organs. He knows he’s harming himself by not eating, although what with his new found uselessness as a human and the terrible ache in his chest whenever he’s in a room with Dean (something he’s started to avoid), Cas finds himself hard pressed to care about hurting his body; he’s more concerned about preventing Dean and Sam from realising what he’s doing to himself, scared of their inevitable disappointment at his inability to cope with his humanity. He’s pretty sure that the Winchesters suspect something is wrong as Sam has started coming to his bedroom more often, trying to lure him out with promises of good films to watch and food that Dean has prepared (‘You should try his honey-glazed steak, Cas! It’s really good,’) but Castiel always shakes his head and burrows further into his work, trying to ignore the concerned twist to Sam’s lips as he watches the former angel retreat into himself. Dean’s visits are less frequent and even more unwelcome; Cas hates the rush of feeling he gets when he sees the freckles dusted across Dean’s face or the way his green eyes look so disenchanted whenever Cas looks at him. Cas knows he’s a disappointment to Dean, he doesn’t need the constant reminder.

   Now that Cas is human, and Jimmy has been gone for so long, Cas had had to accept that this body, this appearance that Dean and the rest of the world sees, really is him. Jimmy was fairly lithe and athletic in stature and shape when Castiel first took possession of him, and he had kept his hair neat and tidy and maintained a tan. Carefully unfurling himself and climbing gingerly to his feet, Cas staggers into the bathroom and turns on the harsh overhead light. Looking at himself in the mirror, Cas can clearly see the toll he has taken on this, on his body. His hair is a rumpled mess, like he’s been running his hands through his hair like Sam does, and is in desperate need of a wash. His skin is pale and sallow with heavy bruise-like shadows under his eyes and his cheeks look hollow, almost gaunt, like the skin pulled taught across his cheekbones could split any moment and peel away from his skull. Even his eyes, which were a brighter and clearer blue than Jimmy’s, one of the few physical changes that occur when an angel possesses its host, looked muted, grey and tired.

   Lifting the hem of his t shirt (one of Dean’s old ones, soft with age), Castiel finds that his stomach is concave with sharply jutting hip bones poking out and he can count the ribs beneath his skin. What little stomach fat Jimmy had before is all but gone now. He runs his fingers across the taut skin and shivers, goosebumps rising where his fingers have been. The flesh between his legs gives an interested twitch but he ignores it; pleasuring himself is something Cas hasn’t been able to attempt yet, too scared he’ll get caught or he’ll do it wrong or any other number of things that make it not worth it. Besides, the ache down there grounds him in the same way the hunger pangs do, like a reminder that he is not worthy of such pleasures now that he’s so inadequate. He’d been a worthless, destructive angel, causing devastation and pain wherever he went, no matter what he tried to do or who he tried to save, but at least the Winchester’s had found him useful.

   Cas shakes his head, puts on an oversized black shirt (one of Sam’s he thinks as the huge swath of cloth swamps him)  and prepares his ‘I’m fine’ face before heading out to the bunker’s kitchen where Sam is drinking coffee and Dean is cooking bacon and eggs, humming what sounds like AC/DC to himself as he works (Cas had become familiar with some of Dean’s favourite bands due to his time in the Impala and his own need to understand all he can about Dean). While Castiel is somewhat nauseated by the smell of the food, he can’t help but feel a warm swell of love in his chest at the sight of the hunter, barefoot and happy, busying himself with simple domesticities like cooking breakfast.

   ‘Hey, Cas!’ Dean said and smiled enthusiastically as Cas wandered into the kitchen. Sam looked up from his coffee mug and also said hello, looking pleased that Cas had appeared. He had no idea why they would be pleased but it was nice anyway. Tentatively, he walked over to the table and sat opposite Sam, trying to calm the churning fear in his stomach, compounded when Dean pulled out a third plate that he assumed was for him. Bacon and eggs?! _No_ , Cas thought, shaking his head to himself without thinking, _no, I don’t want it, please no, Dean…_

‘Cas? Hey, Cas!’ Sam had his right hand on Cas’s left shoulder and was squeezing hard enough to hurt a little, snapping Cas out of his anxious daze as Dean came over, spatula in hand, and squatted down in front of him, fear and sadness in his golden green eyes. Cas tried to plaster on a smile but it felt wrong and unsettling on his face and caused the Winchesters to glance at each other for a moment.

   ‘Sorry, I got lost in my head. My apologies,’ he said and fiddled with a spoon that was resting on the table in front of him. The silence soon turned awkward and he looked up to see Sam and Dean silently communicating in the way they did so well and Cas felt another pang of regret and self-loathing. Sam was pulling a bitch face at Dean and turning his head at an odd angle, like he was trying to throw his hair at Cas. Dean had that wide-eyed frown and was minutely shaking his head back at Sam. Castiel wasn’t sure what any of that meant so he looked back down at his spoon and tried to control the blush that was creeping onto his face and the yawning pit in his stomach.

   ‘You know, I’m not all that hungry yet. Dean, why don’t you sit here while I go… do things,’ Sam said as he stood up and swung his long legs over the bench seat, smiling warmly at Cas then widening his eyes at Dean before leaving the room. Castiel heard a quiet ‘Sonofabitch,’ under Dean’s breath as he moved to take his brother’s place at the table, spatula still clasped in his hand.

   This he recognised; Dean was going to have a ‘talk’ with him, a serious one that would involve emotions and awkwardness and, most frightening, the revelation of truth, none of which Castiel wanted or was remotely prepared for.

   ‘I should go; there are more items from the Mesoamerican era that need cataloguing including a summoning mask that the Aztecs used to wear during their-‘

   ‘Cas, come on, talk to me.’ Dean cut in, his tone reminding Cas of his broken confession years ago about why he wouldn’t return to Heaven, how he couldn’t face what he had done. Even with his human mind, Cas remembers that moment like it had happened the day before; how soft and sad Dean’s eyes were when he heard Castiel’s confession and how Sam had entered the room just as the atmosphere between them had become charged; Dean’s heart beat and body temperature had shot up suddenly while Cas suddenly felt as though his chest was inflating and clenching at the same time and how disappointed Dean had looked when Cas jumped up and went to speak with Sam, even though he did it because he was scared he would do something impulsive and foolish like kiss Dean or tell him he loved him. That was the first time he ever let himself wonder if Dean could possibly, even subconsciously, return his own desires.

   Looking at Dean now, feeling his eyes drift to the other man’s full pink lips, wondering what it would be like to press his own against them and taste Dean’s mouth, Castiel felt his eyes blur as the pang of want throbbed through his aching body, making him feel desperately sad and terribly alone.

   ‘Cas, hey, what’s wrong?’ Dean reached out to clasp a hand around Castiel’s wrist and managed to grab hold of him before Cas could dodge out of the way. The puzzled look that crossed Dean’s face as he turned to look at his hand, easily wrapping all the way around Castiel’s bony wrist made Cas want to run the other way.

_Oh shit._


	4. Chapter Four

Dean’s stomach feels like it’s plummeting, falling deep into the earth when his fingers close around Castiel’s wrist. He can feel bones shifting under the thin layer of skin and he can’t help but pull the wrist towards him to inspect it.

   ‘Dean, no, Dean, _please stop,_ ’ Cas is pleading and trying to pull out of his grasp but the other man is a shadow of his former self and Dean easily keeps hold of the bony wrist in his hand. Jimmy was never a big guy but he’d been of athletic build, not thin, not gaunt. _What the fuck?_

‘Cas, what…? Are you sick? How the hell have you lost so much weight?!’ Dean knows he’s shouting and being rough with Cas’s arm but he can’t help himself, terrified that Cas might be truly ill and desperately hurt that the ex-angel hadn’t come to him to talk, had instead avoided him as much as possible.

   ‘I don’t k-know… D-dean, please _stop_ ,’ Cas stutters out and Dean looks up from Cas’s wrist to see that his friend is crying, silently shuddering as tears drop down his face, his blue eyes big and beautiful and utterly broken as he pleads with Dean to stop.

   ‘Jesus, Cas… Well, why didn’t you say anything? Shit, we better get you to a hospital. Sammy! Get the car running!’ Dean called out as he pulled Cas up from the table with him, mind set on getting Cas checked out. _Stupid_ , he chided himself, _you should’ve thought, should’ve sent him for a full medical. What if Jimmy’s body had cancer growing in it and now…_

‘Dean!’ Cas yelled desperatelyin his ear, making him jump as Sam ran into the kitchen to see what was going on.

   ‘Ow! Jesus, Cas, you tryin’ to blow my ear drum?’ Dean used his free hand to ineffectually cover his ear as Cas wriggled and tried to pull away from him.

   ‘What the…? Dean, let go of Cas.’ Dean rubbed his ear but otherwise ignored his brother.  ‘Dean! Let go of him!’ Sam shouted at him and forcibly removed his hand from Cas’s wrist, who whimpered gratefully and cradled his arm to his chest. Dean opened his mouth to shout at Sam but his little brother held up his hands in a placating gesture and moved the right hand a little, indicating Dean should stop reacting for a moment and just look at Castiel.

   Dean felt sick at the sight of his former angel, shaking, crying, looking so small and vulnerable that he felt evil for upsetting him.

   ‘I’m fine, Dean,’ Cas said and sniffled a little, making Dean’s heart twang uselessly in his chest, ‘I do not require medical assistance. I-I shall rest now.’ Cas bowed his head and shuffled towards the door, trying to bypass Dean as he went, like he was afraid Dean might suddenly lash out and hurt him. He looked at Sam, felt his eyes pleading with his brother to help him. Thank fuck that Sam was so proficient in Dean’s expressions.

   ‘Wait, Cas-‘ Sam reached out for Cas but stopped and smiled comfortingly as Castiel flinched away from his hand. ‘Sorry, Cas, not trying to frighten you but,’ Sam spared a glance at Dean who was resolutely staring at the tiled floor as his ever-present self-loathing screamed inside his head that he was useless, pathetic, ‘We need to sit down and talk.’ Castiel hovered at the door, still gently clutching his arm to his chest, then his shoulders slumped and he nodded his ascent at Sam but he didn't move.

   ‘Sam’s right. Sit down, Cas,’ Dean gestured towards the table, pulling himself together for the sake of his friend, Sam nodding beside him. Cas sighed but went and sat down, the hunters settling down opposite him. Cas was looking at his hands and fiddling with his sleeves, Sam was looking between the former angel and his brother and Dean was grinding his teeth, trying to supress the urge to grab Cas, throw him over his shoulder then into the Impala and drag his ass to the nearest doctor. You could actually do that now, Dean thought sadly, as he watched Castiel, former warrior for the Lord, ex bad ass mofo, as he fidgeted and worried his bottom teeth with his lip. The guilt throbbed inside him as he dragged a hand through his scruff and opened his mouth to speak.

   ‘Look, Cas-‘

   ‘I don’t like eating,’ Cas interrupted him, his usually gravel rough voice sounding meek and thin. ‘It’s disgusting and… it makes me feel… weak.’ Cas lifted his gaze to Dean, desperation clear in his eyes, begging him to understand. Sam frowned.

   ‘You don’t like…? Well, that’s ok, Cas, you just haven’t found the stuff you like yet. Tell you what, why don’t we go to the store and pick out-‘

   ‘No!’ Cas interrupted Sam, banging his bony fists on the table, making both hunters jump. ‘I don’t want to eat! I shouldn’t fucking have to!’ Cas’s voice rose, shouting angrily at the other men, ‘I don’t want to eat or shower or sleep or dream. I don’t want any of it! This isn’t what I am!’ Cas slapped his hands on down flat on the table top and stood up, ‘I was a powerful angel and now… now,’ Dean felt his heart break as Castiel’s lower lip wobbled and two fat tears spilled from his sad blue eyes, ‘now I’m useless. Pointless. I don’t, I can’t even…’ He laughed bitterly and scrubbed his eyes with back of his hand. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ The picture of a broken man, Cas slumped back down and held his head in his hands.

   Before he knew what he was doing, Dean was sliding next to Cas and pulling the smaller man into a fierce hug, blinking back his own tears as he felt Cas shake in his arms.

   ‘I’m so sorry, Cas. I would do anything, _anything_ , to make this right,’ Dean spoke fiercely into Cas’s hair and felt the man nod.

   ‘I know you would, Dean,’ Cas lifted his head, fixing Dean with the intense blue eyed stare Dean knew and lo- liked. ‘I know you care.’

   Sam bit his lip as his brother and Castiel stared each other, inwardly sighing when Dean suddenly blushed and pulled away and Cas’s shoulders slumped. His brother really was clueless.


	5. Chapter 5

   Castiel bit back a sigh of hurt and disappointment when Dean pulled away from him and went over to the coffeemaker. The skin on his body thrummed with feeling where Dean’s arms had been and he felt bereft and exposed without them around him. The only thing he wanted, the one thing that would make his human life bearable, brighter, perhaps even wonderful, was the one thing he knew he would never have. Cas felt that he would gladly waste away if it meant he could kiss Dean, just once.

   ‘Ok, so, how’s this? How about we take a day off from researching, from all hunting, all demons, everything, and just spend the day doing fun human stuff?’ Dean poured himself a mug of coffee and gave Cas that over-his-shoulder half smile that made Cas’s heart flutter and ache. When he didn’t reply, Dean turned around and gestured the coffee pot at Sam who was still sat opposite Castiel, looking thoughtful. ‘Sam? What do you think?’

   Sam blinked a few times then rubbed his eyes, like he was coming out of a daydream. ‘Uh, yeah, sounds good Dean.’ Cas was quite sure Sam had no idea what he was agreeing to.

   ‘Ok, that settles it. Cas, you gonna have a cup of coffee? Then we can talk about what you’d like to do. Anything you want, ok?’ Cas nodded and Dean nodded enthusiastically in that slightly manic way he did when he was worried or trying to cover. _Embarrassed at touching you_ , Cas thought dully, as he gingerly accepted the steaming mug of black coffee Dean handed him, keeping his fingers away from Dean’s.

   Looking at Dean’s expectant face and the concern showing clearly on Sam’s, Castiel decided that what he really wanted to do, if he couldn’t have Dean, was get utterly fucking hammered.

                                                                  *     *     *

   ‘No, Cash, you hash to bang your head, like, like you’re smafshing it on a table or summit, right? Lesh try again. Sammy! Play it again!’ Cas and Sam both groaned as Dean commanded that Back In Black be played for the third time in a row.

   ‘What?! You don’t like AC/DC? They’re, fuckin’, amazin’, clashic rock!’ Dean slurred at Sam, who was slumped so low on the couch that he was almost on the floor, unlike Cas, who actually was on the floor.

   ‘Not eighteen times in a row, Dean! Puts sumfin’ diff’ent on.’ Sam reached out for his whiskey bottle, missing it several times before realising it was on his other side. ‘Where’sh the fuckin… thash it *gulp* blech.’

   ‘Cash! Cash, yous ‘avin’ good time, right?’ Dean stumbled and fell on his knees, landing next to Cas, who was face down on the floor after attempting some ill-advised head banging.

   ‘Yesh, Dean, ‘cause, ‘cause we’re here,’ Cas mumbled into the carpet, ‘You’re here, Dean. Dean Dean Dean,’ Cas laughed to himself then burped and passed out.

                                                        *     *     *

   ‘Cas, I’m not so sure that’s a good-‘

   ‘Why not? Sounds good to me. Have a few drinks, maybe hit a bar, find you a nice girl, eh?’ Dean winked at him and grinned lasciviously, hoisting his coffee mug in that celebratory manner that humans were so fond of. Cas smiled, or tried and failed if Sam’s eyebrows were any indication, and then gulped down more of his bitter coffee.

   ‘Ok but, you have to eat something first.’ Sam raised his hands as Castiel opened his mouth to protest, ‘Sorry but them’s the rules. You’ve never experienced being drunk as a human and, trust me, drinking on a starv- empty stomach will just make you really ill.’

   ‘Sammy’s right, you’ll have to have something.’ Dean nodded then turned around and began looking through things. Castiel immediately felt his heartbeat speed up and his mouth went dry as he contemplated actually eating something; not just that but doing so in front of Sam and Dean who would be watching like hawks as he did so.

   ‘You know, maybe that was, it was a stupid idea, I’ll just-‘

   ‘Cas, you’re going to eat something.’ Dean said sternly as he produced a loaf of bread and a jar of honey. ‘I know this is hard for you and, you know, I’m sorry for that, but you’re going to make yourself sick so please.’ Cas felt Sam’s eyes on him and as he looked at Dean, anxiety making his hands shake, he realised he couldn’t hide anymore. He opened his mouth to protest again but Dean sighed and looked at the floor, his brow furrowed and beautiful mouth turned down in the way that Castiel hated to see. ‘Please, Cas, eat something. For me?’ Dean’s voice lilted hopefully and he glanced at Cas from underneath his eyelashes, who was licking his lips and feeling unsteady because of more than anxiety.

   Sam stood up, breaking their eye contact as he retreated, murmuring something about getting supplies. Dean glanced at his brother and frowned but didn’t say anything, instead opening the loaf of bread and popping two slices into the toaster before looking round at Cas.

   ‘How about honey on toast? Just that. Would that be ok?’ Dean asked him in a gentle voice that Cas both loathed and adored. He clenched one fist at the thought of eating anything so substantial but he nodded anyway, and looked up at Dean, gratified to see the other man smile. Dean pottered about, grabbing a plate for Cas’s toast and dishing up the breakfast he’d been preparing earlier, murmuring to himself about Sammy warming his own damn breakfast as he tossed the eggs and bacon round the skillet, warming them through for himself. Castiel was quivering, trying hard to focus on the imperfections of the wood of the table top. Once upon a time, he would have been able to tell how old the tree had been when it was cut down, where it grew, who planted it, whether it had been loved by children who played beneath it or mostly ignored as its roots burrowed deep into the earth. Now, he could only appreciate the swirls and knots of the varnished wood.

   ‘Here you go, honey on dry toast.’ Dean settled down opposite him with his own plate of scrambled eggs with toast and bacon and placed a smaller plate in front of Cas. ‘I used the brown ‘cause, well, Sam says it’s better for you, even if it does taste like cardboard,’ Dean muttered as he bit into his own brown toast and eyed it disapprovingly.

   Castiel was very close to having a panic attack, a full blown one like the one he had when he woke up human and thought he was about to die. His hands shook, the acid in his stomach roiled and pushed itself up into the back of Cas’s throat, choking him as his body warred between its desire for sustenance and Castiel’s resolute abhorrence of food.

   Dean looked at him and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Cas tried to force a smile onto his face but it was a pathetic broken thing that only made Dean look more sad.

  ‘Come on, Cas, you like honey.’ Dean said then brightened up, his beautiful smile reaching his eyes as he relived a memory. Cas felt his face flush as he realised which one it was. ‘Remember the time with the bees, when you showed up on top of my Baby? Eh?’ Dean winked again and Cas had to laugh even as he went a deeper shade of red at the memory.

   He had been crazy at the time; they had all known that. Well, Cas hadn’t realised but that was sort of the point. Anyway, in his peculiar state, Castiel had decided that the best way to reach Dean’s heart would be to put together nice things and associate them with himself. He had known that it would have to include the Impala, Dean was fond and protective of it, that there would need to be nudity, Dean enjoyed that a lot if his pornography choices were any indication (Cas may have peeked once or twice) and that it should also include food as Dean had a healthy appreciation for it. So, those things in mind, Cas decided that arriving naked, on the hood of the Impala, covered in bees (‘Humans would die out without bees, Dean.’) would inevitably make Dean fall head-over-heels in love with him and they would be together forever.

   Naturally, it didn’t work out like that. As Cas recalled, Dean had turned so red that he almost went purple, ran away from the curious bees that flew around him and shouted about not getting ass prints on his Baby. Not one of Cas’s most successful endeavours.

   Warmed by the silliness of the memory, Castiel nibbled delicately at a triangle of toast and smiled up at Dean who was watching him with a proud look on his face.

   ‘Well done, Cas, I knew you could do it.’


	6. Chapter Six

Sometimes, occasionally, more often than not, Sam wants to bitch-slap his brother for being such an emotionally retarded moron. Sam’s in the Impala, heading out to the nearest grocery store that also sells booze and he has his ipod plugged into the dash of the Impala (he often carries the ipod dock and his ipod just in case he gets to drive and can play the music he wants for a change). Mentally rolling his eyes at Dean’s total lack of self-awareness, he bobs his head to the drum n bass he’s listening to. Never something he thought he could get into, a drunken night with Charlie and Dean, where the red head had so enjoyed torturing Dean with various dance music, had convinced him otherwise. There was something very satisfying to the build and drop of the music; mini music ‘gasms, Sam recalled Charlie naming them.

   Parking the Impala as close to the store as he could, Sam climbed out and smirked at the idea of Cas ever liking drum n bass and how funny the former angel might be as he dances to it. Silently promising to bring out some of the more head-banging tunes during their ill-advised drink-fest today, Sam opened the door to the store and grabbed a basket. As much as he thought that getting drunk today was a totally idiotic idea, especially given Cas’s apparent refusal to eat, he figured that maybe the best thing for the former angel would be to indulge in some of the earthly delights he’d never sampled, hoping that it would make Cas feel less awful about not being an angel anymore.

   Trying to plan the day in his usual fastidious way, Sam grabbed beer, red, white and zinfandel wine, the whiskey Dean liked as well as store-brand nachos and salsa, pretzels, peanuts, a huge bag of potato chips, blueberry muffins, chocolate chip cookies and some other beer-munch necessities. Sam took his bounty up to the cash register and tried to focus on the positives of Castiel, former angel and bad ass, getting utterly hammered with the child-with-the-demon-blood and the-righteous-man. Sam figured God cared very little about the Winchester’s brother’s corrupting Cas, or, if he did, that he was too busy being elsewhere to do anything about it. And, given the time that Cas had gotten smashed, Sam guess it was probably ok for him to do it again.

   As the middle aged woman behind the counter rung up his purchases, Sam found his mind wandering from thoughts of corruption to the way his brother had held Castiel that morning. It had been kind and affectionate in the way that Dean reserved for the chosen few, not that, that was unusual; he’d hugged Charlie, Garth, Kevin and of course Sam that way many times before (despite his protests, Dean was a hugger, they all knew that) but Sam’d never seen Dean hug anyone that way before, not even Cassie or Lisa. Knowing Dean, even if he realised the extent of his feelings for Cas, and fuck knows if he’d even manage that, Sam was pretty sure that Dean’s infuriating self-loathing as well as his unrelenting guilt over his time in Hell would be more than enough to stop him from ever acting upon them. Of course, Dean would also have a big gay panic and would probably go out and bang some more nameless women just to prove his masculinity in the most base way possible. And Cas…

   Sam shook his head to himself as he dumped his grocery bags in the back of the Impala, making sure to put the bottles of booze in the foot well behind the passenger seat so they wouldn’t roll. He climbed into the driver’s seat but didn’t start the engine. Images of Cas flickered through his mind; Cas staring adoringly at Dean, Cas furiously smiting demons as they tried to attack his brother, Castiel’s face when Dean had shouted at him that no one cared that he was broken. He’d wanted to punch Dean for that one when he saw how small, hurt and afraid Cas looked, standing there clutching his plate that he brought their sandwiches on. Dean hadn’t meant it, he rarely did when he lashed out like that, but Sam could tell the kicked-puppy look on Castiel’s face had stayed with his brother for a long time. Then there was Dean’s face when he spoke about purgatory, about Castiel; the way he danced around the subject but Sam could tell that his older brother’s heart was broken. He had actually started to worry that Dean was cracking up in the same way Sam had because of the whole mess with Lucifer and the wall when he said that he’d been seeing Castiel but then Sam remembered how he used to see Jess everywhere and how much it hurt.

   Starting the engine finally, Sam decided to drive the scenic route back to the bunker, hoping that giving the other men time alone would be helpful to them, though he wasn’t sure how. Sam hoped that Dean had managed to persuade Cas to eat something; the sight of that frail, pale wrist looking so fragile in Dean’s hand pulled at Sam’s heart and his conscience. He’d been trying to get Cas to talk, knowing how utterly useless his brother was at it, but had been met with sad silence or quiet monosyllabic answers instead. He’d suspected that Cas hadn’t been eating properly but had explained it away as the man still recovering from his first ever stomach flu. Once, not long after him and Dean had started hunting together again, Sam had gotten sicker than he could remember being (before the awfulness of the trials) with a hideous stomach bug. At first they’d thought it was food poisoning and Dean had crowed about how salads were linked to more cases of food poisoning than anything else (a factoid he’d no doubt gleaned from the internet in order to shove in Sam’s face at an opportune moment) but after the third day of continual vomiting, sweats, fever and lovely diarrhoea, Dean got worried and all mother-hen over him and took him to hospital where he’d actually been admitted so they could get his fluids up, lower his fever and stop the vomiting. For a few weeks after he recovered, Sam had been reluctant to eat anything just in case the whole thing began again so, naturally, considering that Castiel had never before experienced the joys of being ill, he’d assumed that was what’d been going on.

   Pulling up to park, Sam winced and ground the gears by accident as a headache jumped out of nowhere and smacked him in the back of the head, another reminder of the ridiculously slow recovery he was making from the trials. _Fuck it, getting drunk might just be a fantastic idea_ , Sam thought grimly as he lugged the groceries from the car into the bunker, hoping to find a happier brother and friend than when he left.

                                                       *     *     *

   ‘What? No! Don’t introduce him to that crap! What if he likes it?’ Dean shouted over his shoulder as Sam pulled together a drum n bass playlist for Castiel to listen to, smirking at the outrage in his brother’s voice and the wide-eyed look on Castiel’s. ‘I can’t believe you like that stuff, Sammy. I mean, holy shit, drum n bass? I know, let’s get some UV paint and glow sticks and MDMA and dance around the bunker like idiots!’

   ‘Dean, first off, it’s ok to listen to a variety of music. You don’t actually have to listen to the same ten albums over and o-‘

   ‘It’s way more than ten! And at least I don’t listen to beepy-techno-rave stuff!’ Dean waved his arms around to demonstrate the type of dancing he thought was suited to that type of music. Sam rolled his eyes and Cas went back to sipping at his red wine.

   ‘Just shut up and let him listen, alright?’ Sam ignored Dean’s spluttered reply and hit play. He decided to begin with the same song Charlie had started with and tried not to throw something at his brother who was stomping around and muttering about ‘embarrassing long-haired girl of a brother’ and ‘how can we be related’ as he poured himself another large glass of whiskey. So far they’d killed off one bottle that was only a third full but were now into the second one. Well, Dean was; Sam and Cas were trying the different wines that Sam bought.

   The first bottle, a dry white chardonnay with a screw top had, unsurprisingly, tasted like vinegar and Sam had, had to bite his lip to stop the chortle that welled up when he saw the disgusted look on Castiel’s face as he tried the tart wine.

   ‘Sam, I do not mean to be rude but that is very unpleasant. Does all wine taste that bad?’ Cas asked, looking at the pale yellow liquid in his glass with a mixture of revulsion and trepidation as Dean chuckled and tried to hand Cas whiskey.

   ‘No Cas, it’s just hard sometimes to find- Dean, stop it! He’s not chugging whiskey on two slices of toast! He’ll be hammered in minutes.’ Sam had grabbed the glass out of Dean’s hand and threw down the contents, grimacing as it burned its way down. ‘Cas – agh, fuck that whiskey is rough – Cas, why don’t we try the red next? It has quite a strong flavour but it’s more fruity… Shut up, Dean!’

   Cas’ eyebrows had shot into his hair as he tasted the much more pleasant merlot and smiled in appreciation as he took another sip. Sam had chanced a quick glance at Dean and had to suppress an eye roll at the goofy smile on his brother’s face as he watched Castiel enjoy the dark liquid. _Soppy bastard,_ Sam’d thought fondly as he took a large sip of his own glass of red.

   ‘Sam?’

   Sam blinked and looked at Castiel who’d apparently been speaking while Sam was remembering.

   ‘Yes, Cas?’

   ‘Thank you for playing me some new music but… it’s making my head hurt.’

   Dean laughed gleefully behind them as Sam snorted and switched the music over to some Jethro Tull he knew his brother liked. ‘That’s ok, Cas. I think you’ve just made Dean really happy.’

   Castiel smiled broadly at that.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

At three am, a couple hours after putting a very drunk and adorably giggly Cas to bed, Dean finds himself, also very drunk, slumped with his forehead resting against Cas’s bedroom door. He knows he should just go to bed, that no drunken encounter in the middle of the night could lead to anything good, but he wants. Without sobriety to fearfully lockdown the part of himself that craves Cas, Dean’s fantasies are roaming wild in his head and making him want to do very stupid things, like walk right into Cas’s room and kiss him and touch him in all the ways he’s imagined since they first met in that barn.

   Dean sighs and not-so-gently thunks his head against the door. Inside the room, Castiel stirs.

                                                             *     *     *

   Dean was so relieved when Cas started to nibble on his toast that he almost reached out to rub his thumb across Cas’s plump lower lip, his needy body aching to feel the soft skin on the pads of his fingers, but managed to stop himself and instead concentrate on his own food. _Get a fucking grip_ , Dean snarled at himself inside his head. These… feelings had been easier to control on the road, during the apocalypse. He’d been so sure that everyone he loved was going to die that all he allowed himself to feel was rage and he clung to it in order to push back the guilt, fear, confusion, everything so he could focus enough to get the fucking job done. No time for dwelling, emotions don’t mean shit when everyone’s gonna die if you can’t stop it. Dean’d done a pretty good job suppressing everything while in crisis mode. Well, apart from the few times he fell apart but that was stress! Shit, Sammy had been chugging demon blood, Bobby had thrown down endless bottles of whiskey and Cas…

   Dean looked up from the forkful of eggs he’d been staring at to see Cas was looking at him, curiously, his head tilted in the owlish way that Dean had thought was weird at first then secretly grown to adore provoking, throwing in more and more references to books, films and tv shows, just to see the silly head tilt and the way innocent confusion filled those beautiful blue pools. Then Cas would squint and push out his lower lip in a small pout, perfect to take between his teeth and…

   ‘Dean?’

   Startled out of his thoughts, Dean dropped his fork, spilling scrambled egg on the table, and blinked at the other man who was watching him with familiar intensity. Dean immediately curved his lips up into a too-happy smile he knew had to look fake as hell but was his go to when he was embarrassed or nervous.

   ‘Yeah, Cas?’

   ‘You were… Is everything alright? Are you…’ Cas’s eyes dropped from Dean’s, his eyebrows pulling together as he picked at the triangle of toast in his hand. ‘Do you find me to be a disappointment in my new state?’

   Dean jerked his head back a little and frowned, surprised that Cas could ever think that. ‘Of course not, why would I be? I mean, I’m human. What am I gonna do, discriminate?’

   ‘I don’t mean that, exactly.’ Cas sucked his lower lip into his mouth then out again and Dean shifted uncomfortably as his eyes followed the movement. ‘I was an angel, I was useful to you, and Sam. I mean, that’s why you kept me around-‘

   ‘What? No, Cas! Jesus, that’s not why we kept-‘

   ‘Dean, please, let me finish.’ Cas locked eyes with him, pleading and sad vulnerability clear in them. Dean stilled then nodded; he could explain later so Cas would understand that it wasn’t like that. God, it was the complete opposite.

   Cas sighed quietly before continuing. ‘I was useful. I could heal, fly, all those things and that was helpful to you so you… accepted me more than you would another creature, another angel. Then, as time went on and we fought side-by-side, we became friends and I felt more important to you than just an ally. I know that…’ Cas looked back at his toast and took a small bite, chewing slowly and swallowing in a way that looked painful, Dean too perturbed by what the former angel was saying to eat anything.

   ‘Never mind,’ Cas shook his head and took another bite of his toast and Dean felt the crush of disappointment as Cas withdrew from him again. Before Castiel fell, Dean’d gotten so used to Cas being open with him in a way that no one else had ever really been, not even Sam, in a way that made him feel… trusted. Important, even. But these last few weeks, even though Cas had been around more and closer than Dean ever thought he would be able to be, at the same time, he’d been so very far away, lost to Dean, withdrawn into himself. The third time Cas quickly exited a room soon after Dean entered it, Dean decided to bring it up with Sam, asking him if he knew what was up with Cas, if he’d done anything wrong. Sam just shook his head and said ‘Keep trying, Dean, he needs you around.’ Dean hadn’t known what to do with that, and Bikkhu Winchester wouldn’t offer up anything else, but he knew he needed to make Cas see, to know how much he was worth, before the former angel faded away.

   ‘Cas… You know, it doesn’t matter to me that you fell. I don’t like how it’s made you feel but it doesn’t matter that you can’t do that stuff anymore. You’ll always be important to me… and Sam. You’ve always been more than just useful to me… us. We care about you. You’re family.’ Dean couldn’t help but flush a little at his stilted confession but resolutely didn’t drop his gaze from Castiel’s as he said, ‘I need you around. I have for a long time.’

   The beautiful blue eyes widened in surprise then fluttered their gaze away as a pink blush spread across Cas’s cheeks and a hideously fluorescent one bloomed on Dean’s as he realised what he’d said, what it sounded like, what he knew it really meant. Dean gulped and stared down at his cold breakfast as the words kept throbbing in his head; _I love you, Cas._

   ‘Thank you, Dean,’ Castiel said quietly before they fell into silence, each picking at their food, unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Dean’s heart was pounding so hard and so fast that he felt like it was about to leap out of his chest. He’d known he was attracted to Cas, wasn’t the first guy to have caught Dean’s eye (though he’d never done anything about it, never crossed the line from flirting with a guy to fucking one, or, hell, even kissing one) and Cas’s perpetually messy bed-hair and pillowy lips had popped up in jerk-off sessions more times than Dean had allowed himself to dwell on but he hadn’t let himself feel for the angel, now former. Dean couldn’t, not when so much was at stake, not when just keeping moving was so hard it took all his concentration to get out of bed, not when he knew, at any moment, the angel could be taken away from him forever. Dean’s head reeled with the force of emotion as the dam inside him fractured and let him feel what he’d suppressed for so long.

   _Christ on a bike, Cas, I’m in love with you._

 

                                                 *     *     *

   ‘If we watch The Matrix then we’ll have to watch all three,’ Sam said, gesticulating with his wine glass and spilling some on his own foot, a piece of popcorn stuck to his chin.

   ‘No we don’t, just the first one. The rest were shit.’ Dean glugged his whiskey, his eyes looking a little bloodshot. He and Cas were sitting on the sofa, Cas at one end, Dean trying hard to stay at the other, and Sam was slumped over the armchair, like the sprawling tree that he was, on Dean’s left. So far they’d consumed two and a half bottles of wine, eight beers and an indeterminate amount of whiskey, most of which had gone down Dean’s throat and he was a fair bit more drunk than the other men. Well, Cas was looking a little worse for wear but happy and that made warmth curl low in Dean’s stomach until he realised he was smiling and staring at Cas. He looked away and tried to resume his argument with his brother who was waffling some crap about Cas needing to know the whole story arc if he was to enjoy the irony of blah blah blah…

   ‘Sam, we’re not watching all three movies. I will die of boredom. In fact, I think we should watch Star Wars-‘

   ‘Not again, Dean! How many times do you have to see the same fucking film? It was bad enough when we were kids! You must’ve-‘

   ‘Made you watch it a hundred times. Yeah, yeah, Sammy, not like you made _me_ watch-‘

   ‘For the love of everything in my Father’s creation! Can we please just watch some sort of film and continue drinking?!’ Cas suddenly shouted, making the brothers jump in surprise. Dean flushed, realising how much like bickering children he and Sam must sound to the millennia old angel ( _former; former angel_ ) and murmured that Cas could decide instead which settled his brother and Cas who leaned back against the couch and rolled his eyes in the ‘I’m fucking done’ way he’d perfected as an angel as he gulped down some wine.

   Dean spent the entire film watching Cas out of the corner of his eye and throwing down more whiskey until he had eye strain and an embarrassingly obvious boner which he kept trying to cover with his other leg, making his foot go numb where it was crossed over his thigh. Despite the obvious awkwardness of trying to conceal the tent in his pants, Dean decided that watching Cas watch films was his new favourite thing; the way the smaller man gasped when Neo awakes inside the pod of goo or how he smiles sweetly when Neo and Trinity kiss for the first time. He caught Dean looking more than once but never once looked annoyed or concerned, just smiled fondly at him and sipped more wine, a little red wine ‘tache forming above his lips. Dean’s mind wandered then fuzzed with whiskey and lust as Cas licked droplets of wine from his lips and picked experimentally at the food on the table in front of them. Dean noticed that Sam smiled encouragingly at Cas when he saw the other man eating and so he tried to do the same until he realised that was starting to look really creepy and that he should stop.

                                                            *      *      *

   ‘Ok, Cash, ish time to sneep, sleep, on a bed. Can’t sleep on floor, isn’t comfy. ‘ll get carpet burn on face.’ Dean slurred and tried not to lean down too far as he helped Cas up off the floor, in case he ending up falling over and landing on his head. The final strains of Back In Black were playing and Sam was snoring, a bottle of whiskey carelessly spilled at his feet. Dean had no idea how much they’d drunk at this point; all he knew was that the last couple of hours had been spent laughing uncontrollably at nothing (well, except at Cas’s first attempts at dancing which had been so adorable that Dean had very nearly cuddled Cas, turning it into a manly hug at the last second, much shoulder patting) and playing Cas the finest of his music collection while trying to stop Sam from putting on more crappy modern music that Cas was bound to hate because he had better taste than that (he’d immediately liked AC/DC and Metallica which Dean was counting as a win).

   ‘Dean, I, I… blech, I think I souldn’t has drunken so much,’ Cas slurred then giggled in Dean’s ear as he half-carried the smaller man down the hall to his bedroom and gently lay him down on the bed. ‘Ish not poshible that bunker’s spinning, ish it? That would be a shtrange defensh mechanishm.’

   Dean blinked, his eyelids scraping against his eyeballs as he staggered into Cas’s bathroom and filled a glass of water for him before bringing it back and putting it on the bedside table and clicking the lamp on. The aspirin he’d thought to put there earlier were ready for Cas to take if he felt too awful and Dean drunkenly assured him there would be some sort of feel better food he would make especially for Cas the next day.

   ‘I know is shtill hard but I will make greasy magic food that… makes better. Mmm’kay?’ Dean told him as he tucked Cas in, his heart thudding painfully at the site of his angel (fuck it, he’d always be ‘his angel’ to Dean) looking so relaxed and happy.

   ‘Did it, was it fun, Cash? Wash it what you wanted?’ He couldn’t resist running a hand through Castiel’s especially mad hair, biting his lip when Cas all but purred and bumped his head into the touch like a sated cat.

   ‘Yesh, Dean, it wash nice to spend time with you when nothing wash trying to kill us,’ Cas mumbled then laughed to himself, ‘My mouth is slow, my tongue ish heavy and furry, like a woolly mammof. They were very big, Dean,’ Cas said seriously then curled onto his side and began to snore, leaving Dean to go get in his own bed and try not to let his drunk-self talk him into doing things his sober-self would never allow.

                                                  *     *     *

   ‘The door opened and Dean only had time to step back before a rather worse-for-wear Cas poked his head out.

   ‘Dean?’ Cas’s usually deep voice was gravel rough sending little shocks of pleasure down Dean’s spine, still slurring slightly as he said ‘Ish everything ok?’

   Dean opened his mouth to say yes, of course, he’d merely got up for a glass or a spoon or something but instead nothing came out, just an aborted ‘ah’ noise that made his throat click. Cas frowned and motioned with his hand for to Dean to come into his now dark bedroom. Dean’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as Cas stumbled past the bed to turn the small reading lamp on. _Go back to your room, you fucking moron, this is a bad idea, don’t shut that door!_ Dean screamed at himself even as he was closing the door behind him and sitting down on Cas’s bed. Sweat was forming on the back of his neck and his stomach churned with more than just booze. Cas grabbed his glass of water as he threw a couple of pills into his mouth then took a big glug to help them go down while Dean just stared at the blanket on Cas’s bed and picked at some of the blue threads that were coming loose.  Cas held out the glass to Dean who took a small sip and handed it back.

   Dean knew all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this, why he didn’t deserve this, that even if by some freak occurrence, Cas actually did have feelings for him, how wrong it was, how Dean was taking advantage, how he wasn’t good enough for the angel, how… how…

   ‘Dean? What’s the matter?’ Cas leaned over and placed his hand on top of Dean’s and that was it; the feel of Cas’s hand on his broke his last remaining defences.

   Dean groaned as his self-loathing filled thoughts dissolved into a plea of _kisshimkisshimkisshim_ and he reached out to wrap his hand around the back of Cas’s neck and pulled him in for a desperate kiss.


	8. Chapter Eight

For a moment, Cas didn’t react, apparently shocked into stillness, and Dean almost pulled away, getting ready to try the whole just-a-joke thing when Cas leapt for him, wrapping both his hands around the back of Dean’s head and pulling him even harder into the kiss. Dean felt his eyes widen at the hope and happiness that burst inside him before moaning as Cas’s tongue sought his lip and opened easily for the angel, desperate to feel his tongue rasp against the other man’s. On instinct, Dean pulled Cas down onto the bed with him and threw a leg over the angel’s thighs, twining them together as best he could as Cas nipped at his lip and curled his fingers in Dean’s hair before pulling away with a gasp, his stunning blue eyes swamped by his lust-blown pupils, his lips shiny from their saliva.

   ‘Dean… Oh, Dean, are you sure? Do you really-‘ Cas asked breathlessly, mindlessly grinding himself against Dean’s groin as the hunter pulled him into another kiss, harder and even more urgent than before, teeth clashing gracelessly, fingers tugging at Cas’s beautiful bed-hair before whispering ‘Yes, Cas, I really.’

   Dean tugged on Cas’s shirt, pulling it up and off Cas and onto the floor, his own following suit. Cas was just how he’d imagined him except Dean could see his ribs and his stomach was concave, evidence of his angel’s self-starvation. _No more, Cas, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this better for you_ Dean thought fiercely as pushed Cas onto his back and began kissing along his rib bones, as though he could kiss his angel better. He briefly panicked, worried that Cas might be offended that he’d zeroed in on the bones but Cas was gasping beneath him, his stomach muscles fluttering as Dean’s breath ghosted against his skin so Dean continued to explore, nipping gently at the jut of Cas’s hip bones, earning himself another gasp. Achingly hard, Dean slipped between Cas’s legs and gently tugged at the soft sweatpants his angel was wearing, a silent plea for admission. Cas looked down at him and bit into his lip as he lifted his hips and began pushing them down. Dean felt his eyes widen in awe and had to duck his face against Cas’s thigh to hide his blush and try to pull himself together. However, this close to Cas’s erection, Dean could smell his arousal, musky and thick, and had to palm himself through his jeans to stop from coming in his pants like a desperate teenager.

   ‘Yours too, Dean?’ Cas whispered, a beautiful pink flush in his cheeks as he looked down at Dean, his chest quickly rising and falling. Dean was out of his jeans and stretched out on top of Cas before he could even think, nuzzling his face into the other man’s neck, scenting him and trying not bite too ferociously at his neck, loving the little broken sounds Cas made whenever he touched somewhere new. It wasn’t long before Dean found himself rubbing his erection against the heat of Castiel’s, feeling the wet patches of warmth from each of them sliding together and moaning nonsense softly against Cas’s plump lips, stuff like _oh Cas_ and _need this_ and _oh fuck_ and _need you, Cas._

   Out of nowhere, Cas was throwing himself and Dean up, straddling the hunters legs beneath him and grinding down against him in a dirty promise that had Dean gasping and throwing his head back, his fingers digging into the skin of Cas’s back as he thrust up to meet Castiel’s movements.  

   ‘Have you touched yourself yet?’ Dean asked as he ghosted his fingers over the warmth of Cas’s erection, his voice deep and fucked-out as he reverently gazed up at Castiel. ‘Has anyone touched you yet?’

   ‘No, ah, no, Dean, I wanted it to be you, to be the first,’ Cas gasped as he rutted into Dean’s hand, his chest flushing as Dean stroked him through the thin but too-there material of Castiel’s boxers. Dean couldn’t help the flush of pride as he slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of Cas’s underwear and Cas mewled as his fingertips brushed the hot head of his cock, pre-cum smearing a little from his touch.

   Dean moved his hands and twined them into Cas’s fingers as he stood them up, smiling shyly as Cas made a disappointed sound before pulling his right hand away to tug at the waistband of Cas’s boxers, gently sliding them down until they dropped to the floor, swiftly shoving his own down too before sitting back on the bed, guiding the now naked and oh so beautiful Cas back into his lap. Dean’s heart throbbed painfully as the smaller man settled down on top of him with and wide-eyed gasp and began kissing and nibbling at Dean’s neck, hitting all of Dean’s sweet spots like they’d done this a thousand times. As their erections slipped and slid between them, their desperate panting got louder, faster. Dean curled his fingers into Cas’s hair and tugged a little as he drew the other man’s plump lower lip into his mouth, groaning as he worried the piece of flesh between his teeth, Cas making happy noises in the back of his throat, his hips thrusting harder as he sought friction, his body acting on innate impulse. Before Dean was too far gone, he wrapped his hand around Cas’s cock and squeezed gently, milking more pre-cum from him then smearing it over the head before he pressed his cock against Cas’s and started to jack them off together.

   ‘Oh! Oh, ah, Dean, oh, fuck, uh…’ Cas moaned into Dean’s neck and rocked his hips mindlessly as he thrust into Dean’s hand. Dean wanted to last, to do this perfectly, but the sight of Cas, flushed and wanton on top of him, had his orgasm approaching faster than it had since he was a horny kid, desperately jerking off in the shower before his dad or Sammy could start pounding on the door, demanding their turn in the bathroom.

   ‘Cas, oh, fuck _Cas_ , I’m gonna, oh God, ah…’ Dean cried out as he rushed towards his orgasm, his hand working furiously between them as Cas grinded against him, soft sighs and not-so-soft moans spilling from his lips, Dean enthralled by every sight, every sound he could elicit from Cas as they urgently rutted together.

   ‘Oh, Dean! Oh, I can’t, too much, ah, ahhh,’ Cas whimpered, his big blue eyes desperate as they looked into Dean’s, his cock pulsing hard against Dean’s as his orgasm built, innocent confusion clear in his blue gaze as his mouth fell open..

   ‘It’s ok, Cas, just, oh _fuck_ , just, ah! Just, let, go… Fuck, Cas, Cas, _Cas!!_ ’ Dean all but screamed against the angel’s neck as his balls pulled tight against his body, his vision whiting out as his thick pulses of come splattered between them. A couple more slippery tugs and Cas was throwing his head back, crying out ‘Oh, yes, oh, fuck,   _Deeeeeeeaaan!!!!’_ as he came all over Dean’s hand,  shuddering and gasping as Dean wrung out every last drop from him before collapsing backwards, bringing an adorably tired and sated Cas down on top of him, both falling asleep almost instantly, entwined together on Castiel’s bed.

                                                   *     *     *

   Dean awoke later to find himself in Cas’s bed, cuddled with the other man, covered in dried cum with a banging headache, a nauseous stomach and feeling of impending doom as the night rushed back into his head in excruciating, exquisite detail, his freckled cheeks blushing hard at the memory of him crying out Cas’s name as he came all over the other man’s stomach.

   _Oh fuck, no, what have you done you stupid son of a bitch?!_

   He grimaced as he slowly pulled away from Cas, the yick between them unpeeling their bodies with a sticky noise as he moved off the bed and grabbed his clothes, terrified Cas would wake up and catch him shamefully sneaking out of his bedroom. Tiptoeing round the room, collecting his clothes, Dean couldn’t help glancing at Cas one more time before he left the room. The smaller man was still asleep but reaching out a little with the arm that had been wrapped around Dean’s waist, searching for the warm body he’d been holding. He looked happy, peaceful even, but Dean knew he had to get out of there before he awoke, had to be as far away as possible before he could corrupt Cas any more than he already had.

   Dean cringed as the doorknob creaked open under his hand but Cas didn’t stir again so he slipped past the door and closed it as quietly as possibly before scurrying back to his room for a quick shower and change of clothes. He had to get away, couldn’t look Cas in the eye, not after what he’d done. Dean shut his own bedroom door then threw his clothes to the floor and ran into his shower, turning it as hot as he could stand before jumping in. He scrubbed himself as hard and fast as possible, desperately wanting to scrub the evil out of himself, the part of him that became like black foul tar from his time in hell, the part that would knowingly get his friend drunk then take advantage of him.

   _He was a virgin, he was pure and good and… and DRUNK and you put your hands all over him, you sick fuck. That was wrong, that was so fucking wrong._

Dean clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes closed, rubbing harder, painfully, at his left arm, trying to quiet the voice with pain. It wasn’t working, it wasn’t enough; he needed to go out and kill something, get hurt by something as penance for letting his feelings for Cas get so out of control. Dean switched out of the shower and quickly climbed out, barely drying himself before dressing, packing a bag of essentials then heading out to the Impala. He had to get away, had to do his job, had to hope and pray that Cas would forgive him for what he’d done.

  


	9. Chapter Nine

   Cas woke slowly, unaccustomed to the morning-after-the-night-before feeling, groaning a little when his head ached and the contents of his stomach sloshed as he gingerly rolled over, reaching out for… Cas sat right up, looking down at himself and the empty rumpled other side of the bed where he was sure Dean was meant to be.

   Dean. Bits of memory flashed inside his mind but nothing useful, nothing tangible. Cas shook his head, trying to pull together some sort of coherent thought but groaned as the movement starting up a very unpleasant thumping inside his head.

   _Water, then words, ideas, memories._

He grabs the empty glass on the nightstand and suddenly remembers Dean nervously sipping from it. Cas looked over the bed where he remembered dean sitting, plucking threads out of the blue blanket. Cas had liked it because of its sky-like colour, reminding him of flying, Heaven and long drives spent in the Impala with Dean singing along to his music and smiling his devastating smile at Cas. Dean then bought it and left it on his bed for him without a word and had only smiled and turned away when Cas tried to thank him. Dean, whose lips tasted of salty-sweetness and whose hand had stroked him to orgasm for the first time. Dean, who had whispered Cas’s name over and over, a desperate litany that mimicked prayer. Dean, who was no longer in his bed.

   Cas threw on the first t-shirt he found to cover the itchy, dry remains of ejaculate in case Sam was up and then quickly went to knock on Dean’s door, his heart pounding anxiously as he waited for the other man to respond. He knocked again then, after more silence, he tried the doorknob. It opened easily in his hand and the door swung open to reveal Dean’s dark, empty bedroom.

   ‘Mornin’, Cas,’ Sam said as he came down the hallway and walked towards his room, ‘Dean left a note; he found a case in somewhere in the north of Iowa, said he’d be back in a few days.’

   Cas felt his legs go weak beneath him and clutched at the door frame to keep himself vertical as Sam casually broke his heart with the news. Pain unlike any he’d ever known as an angel or as a human throbbed through him, like his heart had expanded into broken ribs, like his hopeless stupidity had formed a hand and was squeezing his heart into puree as he stared into Dean’s room and tried to absorb what he should have known all along; Dean doesn’t love him. He never did.

                                                            *      *      *

   Cas wasn’t sure about the wine at first; the yellow liquid Sam presented him with first had the bitter sting of bile, reminding him of the burn of vomiting. He was still a little too shaken by his conversation with Dean to really relax into the human-centric day he had requested but he knew that he definitely did not want any more if it tasted like that. Sam had tried not to laugh as he choked on the vile liquid but Dean had seemed pleased by his distaste. Same with Cas’s displeasure with the loud, head-pounding music Sam had introduced him to. In all honesty, he could see why Sam liked it and, secretly, he had felt an urge in his limbs that seemed to equate with how Sam bounced a little in his seat to the rhythm of the music, but Cas didn’t want to disappoint Dean with his tastes.

   Throughout the day, Dean let him have little sips of his whiskey whenever Sam wasn’t looking which gave Cas a little thrill; he liked the way Dean would nudge him with his elbow and make an elaborate show of passing the glass to him, sometimes with a conspiratorial wink and a huff of a laugh when Cas quickly schooled his features from a crinkly-eyed grimace to wide-eyed innocence when Sam looked round. Of course, Sam soon caught him and while Cas was disappointed that he could longer sip from Dean’s glass, he was also a little relieved as the room was quickly getting blurry and he was getting loose-lipped.

‘Dean… Dean!’

   ‘Wassat, Cas? You ok? Things… things ok?’

   ‘I… I care about you, Dean. A lot.’

   ‘…ahhhhh, I care about you too,’ Dean chuckled drunkenly as he rubbed his knuckle against the top of Castiel’s head in a strange way that seemed to make him happy and which Sam referred to as a moogie or noogie or something, Cas couldn’t hear properly as Dean accosted him. Cas saw Sam roll his eyes, as he did many times that evening’ any time he and Dean were engaged in any type of activity. It would be logical to assign Sam’s face-making to a sort of sibling rivalry except that Cas couldn’t help but notice the fond, hopeful glint in Sam’s eye whenever he looked at Dean and Cas together.

   Cas noticed that Dean kept checking on him, to see if he was enjoying the film Sam and Dean had chosen; an interesting production about the intricacies of God’s plan and sad abandonment of his creation and the lives he created for it. At first, Castiel had felt nostalgic as the films meaning made itself apparent but then he couldn’t help but be swept up by the two main protagonists; how one was destined to change the world but could not believe in himself enough to achieve all he was meant for and the person he loved, who knew more than he did but couldn’t help being awed by his strength and skill as he took on the demons of their world. Cas was not sure if the film was meant to be an obvious allegory or a subconscious one but he felt gratified any time Dean looked over at him with that knowing look on his face.

   Then, drunker and later, Cas was attempting to copy Dean’s dance movements, most of which seemed to consist of whipping one’s head up and down in a neck-breaking manner and twiddling one’s hands in the air as though there was some sort of shape-changing instrument in front of them; playing the instrument correctly seeming less important than the vigour with which Dean, Cas or Sam threw their hands around. The sight of Dean’s expression, lit-up like a small boy, like there was no heavy load on his shoulders, was enough to make Castiel throw himself into the dancing, gratified to keep that wide smile on Dean’s face for a little while longer. When Castiel spoke up and mentioned that he really liked on of the songs, Dean flushed and said it was called ‘Addicted To Love’ by Robert Palmer then turned it up for him, punching Sam in the ribs when the taller man winked lasciviously at him.

   Cas felt hope blossom inside his chest.

                                                       *     *     *

   Much later in the night, after Dean had helped him to bed (his mobility somewhat hampered by the large amount and variety of the alcohol he had consumed) and he had fallen into a blank unconsciousness as opposed to his usual fitful sleep, Castiel heard a thud against his bedroom door which was loud enough to jerk him awake, followed by some incoherent mumbling that Cas thought sounded like Dean. He untangled himself, groaning a little as his head throbbed painfully, and climbed out of the sweaty sheets and over to the door, swiftly opening it to see what was going on.

   Cas felt his eyebrows draw together when he saw the frightened and conflicted look on Dean’s face, immediately concerned that something had happened, even more so when Dean did not respond to his questions, instead fidgeting and gulping nervously in a way Cas had never seen the man, not even when he was facing down the worst monsters he’d ever hunted.

   He motioned his hand in a way he understood was an invitation and went to turn on the light and take some of the pills Dean had suggested he may need when he awoke after the consumption of much alcohol. After forcing them down his throat, Cas joined Dean and sat on the bed, offering the water to Dean who took a perfunctory swig before handing it back and resuming his intense study of Castiel’s bed coverings. Actively nervous now and hating the awkward silence in the room, Cas laid a hand over Dean’s and tried again to find out what was troubling Dean enough to bring him to Cas in the middle of the night.

   As Cas spoke, Dean groaned and suddenly he was wrapping a big warm hand around the back of Castiel’s neck and pressing his lips against him in a hard kiss that shocked Cas into stillness before he was grabbing hold of Dean and pressing his lips as hard as he could against the other man’s, desperate for more. He never understood, never conceived before that the simple action of pressing his lips to another person’s pair could feel so exciting and so terrifying; it certainly hadn’t that time with Meg.

   As Dean gasped against his mouth and pulled them down flat on the bed, Cas felt his erection throb inside his sweatpants and couldn’t help nipping at Dean’s lip. He knew he wanted to touch Dean, all of him, in any and every way which would bring Dean pleasure and in the ways he had found himself fantasising about more and more;  Cas wanted to lick that band of flesh on Dean’s stomach that showed whenever he stretched, he wanted to kiss and bite at the long golden expanse of Dean’s beautiful neck, he wanted to kiss all up the inside of Dean’s legs, paying special attention to his knees that made his legs bow in that way that made Castiel want to sink his teeth into them. He wanted everything they could have together but he had to know, had to be sure that this was ok, that this was right, that Dean really wanted him even a quarter as much as Cas needed him.

   Faintly embarrassed at the way his voice cracked, breathless and desperate, just like the rest of him, Castiel made himself ask Dean, to make sure this was not going to be a mistake, that Cas was not going to have his heart broken in the morning. Unable to control himself, Cas pushed his hips forward to press his hardness against the answering solid warmth in Dean’s jeans as he asked, ‘Dean… Oh, Dean, are you sure? Do you really-?’ and felt like his chest would burst with love when Dean kissed him again and responded ‘Yes, Cas, I really.’

   His recollection of what happened next was mostly sensual, words and movements falling away, lost to sensations Castiel had never felt before, that he had never in his wildest imaginings thought could feel so wonderful. Dean moved his hands over Castiel’s body and every touch was like pleasure and pain, so powerful that every ache and pulse forced gasps and moans from Castiel’s lips as he writhed beneath the hunter.

   Castiel gave himself over to Dean, confessed his wants to him, curled around the larger man like he could touch every part all at the same time, lips and fingers flying over Dean’s soft freckled skin, Castiel’s blue eyes widening to almost cartoonish size as Dean’s cock brushed against his own and set off sparks behind his eyes and deep inside his body, like a glorious electric shock of pleasure. And then Dean was touching him and Castiel lost all control. The feeling, already so intense, exploded as Dean pulled them both in hand and began sliding them both through his tight grip. Cas couldn’t stop crying out, nonsense, cuss words and Dean’s name, over and over like a benediction, his mind and body too overwhelmed with the mind blowing physical sensations Dean was creating in his body as well as Castiel’s profound love for Dean as the two men moved together.

   When Dean’s beautiful noises of joy began to grow in volume and Castiel heard his own name, the feelings inside him reached a peak that was almost too much, almost too powerful and, for a moment, Cas wasn’t sure if his body could handle any more. He stared into Dean’s eyes, his mouth dry as he cried out ‘Oh, Dean! Oh, I can’t, too much, ah, ahhh…’

   ‘It’s ok, Cas, just, oh fuck, just, ah! Just, let, go… Fuck, Cas, Cas, Cas!!’ Dean growled his name, his whole body shaking before he went rigid and pulses of thick white liquid shot between their bodies. Cas dug his fingers into Dean’s shoulders as the sensation reached its precipice, his orgasm, and then screamed Dean’s name helplessly as his whole body vibrated and sparked with it, blurring his vision, ripping away his control as he shuddered against Dean’s quaking body then collapsed down onto the bed in Dean’s arms, immediately losing consciousness as he did, his body finally sated by the man he loved.

                                                    *     *     *

      ‘Cas? Hey, Cas?!’ Sam was shaking him as he stood, staring into Dean’s bedroom, clutching to the doorframe so he wouldn’t fall down. ‘You ok there, buddy? Bad hangover?’

   Cas felt that he should school his features into something more composed but he couldn’t as he turned to look Sam in the eye. Sam’s eyes widened and he gulped as he took in Cas’s expression, immediately understanding what had happened, what was happening, then he scowled and huffed breath out of his nose as he looked into Dean’s room and snarled ‘Dean, you are going to fucking pay for doing this.’

   Cas just slid down to the ground and stared helplessly at his hands as what was left of his life fell apart.


	10. Chapter Ten

The case in Iowa turned out to be an all too easy salt and burn and Dean couldn’t find anything else in the immediate area so he took off towards what sounded like a vamp nest in Ohio. He didn’t switch his phone on and he didn’t think about anything other than the job. Nothing at all.

   The vamp nest ended up being just a couple of them, easily taken care of, and then Dean was off to Georgia to find out what was melting people’s hands. Cursed object. Ghost in Louisiana, almost took his head off with an antique scythe before he ganked the bitch. Then there was a werewolf in Texas…

   Before long, it was three weeks later and Dean was parked ten miles out from the bunker, staring at the cell phone in his hand, willing himself to stop being such a goddamn pussy and turn the fucking thing on. _Face the music, boy; be a man_ , Dean heard his father’s voice in his head, swiftly followed by _I guess that’s a lost cause considering you’re a faggot rapist,_ a hint of Alastair’s oily voice seeping into his father’s. Dean clenched his teeth and shook his head to clear the voices out. Hands shaking, he switched his phone on and cringed as message after message came up on the screen, his phone vibrating and booping like mad as the alerts came through.

    Dean figured Sam’d be mad at him for taking off and staying gone for so long so it was hardly a surprise that most of the messages seemed to be from him. The lone message from Cas however, that made Dean’s stomach turnover and his hand automatically reach out for the car key, ready to run away again. _No, no, you can do this._ Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he looked out of his window at the empty road surrounded by vast wheat fields, stretching out all around him. It was late afternoon and the sun was dipping low on the horizon, accentuating the golden husks as they swayed gently in the breeze. Inhaling slowly through his nose and unclenching his teeth that were grinding mercilessly together, he looked back at his phone and tapped on the first message. The first three messages were all telling him he had voicemails so he deleted them and went on to the first actual text from his brother, diligently not looking at the one from Cas.

_Sam: Let me know if you need my help in Iowa. Try not to get yourself killed. Again._

Ok, relatively painless. Next one.

_Sam: Did something happen? Cas won’t come out of his room. Call me._

   Dean gasped in a shaky breath and tried to calm his sudden rapid heartbeat.

_Sam: Dean, what the fuck? Why aren’t you answering? I tried your other phones and found them in your room. You need to come back to the bunker. Cas is in a bad way._

‘Shit,’ he whispered, his vision blurring a little as guilt and shame speared his insides. _What the fuck have I done?_

   The next one was from Cas and, like the pathetic coward he was, he skipped over it without looking to read the next one from Sam, dated just under a week after he’d left.

_Sam: Dean, I am not fucking around! Get your ass back to the bunker!_

The next few were more voicemail notifications, one from Charlie asking when would be a good time to visit, another from Garth asking if everything was ok as he hadn’t been able to get hold of him, and the final four were from Sam.

_Sam: Dean, I’m getting really worried. You’ve been gone for over a week and no one can get hold of you. Please call me. Whatever happened, we can deal with it._

_Sam: Dammit, Dean! Stop running away! Cas won’t eat and I don’t know what to do! At least call or turn your phone on so I know you’re alive!_

_Sam: Dean, it has been TWO WEEKS with no word! Cas is really depressed, I’m freaking out and you need to get your selfish ass BACK TO THE BUNKER!!!_

_Sam: Cas has been cutting himself. Come back to the bunker._

   Dean felt his mouth drop open in shock and the tears that had been threatening in his eyes spilled over, running down his cheeks as he read and reread those ten words, the gravity of how bad he’d fucked up, how much he’d really hurt Cas, slapping him upside the head. _You cowardly sack of shit. You useless, stupid, selfish, twisted…_

   He shook his head again, trying to be brave, trying to do what was right as he scrolled to the message from Cas, dated a few days after he’d left. Dean clicked on it and took a deep breath before reading.

_Cas: Dean? What did I do wrong?_

   Dean hit the steering wheel with his hands, once, twice, hard enough to break it and him as those shameful tears ran down his face. Not only had he poured alcohol down his vulnerable best friend’s throat and then taken advantage of him, put his hands where they never should’ve been, but he also managed to make _Cas_ believe he’d done something wrong.

   As he scrabbled with the key, now desperate to get back to the bunker to see Cas, make sure he was ok, to beg forgiveness, anything to make this ok, Dean wasn’t sure he had ever hated himself so much.

                                                     *     *     *

   Cas thought he had been miserable before but oh no. Dear Father, why should it be possible for human beings to feel this bad, this _wrong?_ To be given what you have desired for so long, to be given salvation in the form of love and family, only to have it snatched away again less than twenty four hours later; Cas was finding it hard to continue breathing. Apart from occasionally dragging himself out of bed to refill his water glass or to use the bathroom, Cas just laid on his bed, eyes open, eyes shut, drifting in a state of numbness that was broken only by the odd bought of agonising pain centred in his chest, as though something with claws was ripping into his heart, peeling strips off to eat as Castiel, former warrior of the Lord, ceased to exist.

   ‘Cas? Are you ok in there?’ Ah, Sam was back. Cas was vaguely aware of the very tall hunter’s sporadic visits, sometimes he came with food, sometimes he came to plead, making noise about things to live for, asking what would make Cas happy, always careful not to mention Dean, as though the green-eyed-hunter had died and Sam was easing Castiel through his grief. Except he hadn’t, he just wanted nothing to do with Cas. That’s all. Nothing big, not another apocalypse, not an angel sword through the chest, not his grace being ripped from his body, just his best friend, who had been gone for some vague amount of time, who had ran away from Castiel as soon as he could. Because he did not love him. That was all.

   Cas was sure that a sword to the chest would be much more preferable.

   The morning Dean left, Cas had just pulled himself up, gone back to his bedroom, ignoring Sam calling out to him and the following knocks at the door, locked himself away and slept. For about three days. Every time he emerged from unconsciousness, his memory would rush back at him and he would turn over and burrow back into the darkness again.

   Eventually he awoke to the sound of the lock on his bedroom door being picked and then there was a knock ‘Cas? It’s Sam. I’m coming in, ok?’ and then Sam came in, holding a tray with a bowl of soup and some buttered bread. The smell of them both made Cas feel nauseous and starving at the same time. Sam sat next to him on the bed and made small encouraging noises as Cas took small sips of the soup, accepting the pieces of bread when Sam handed them to him. He finished the soup and bread and lay back down on the bed, turning away from Sam, refusing to hear what he was saying until the room went dark and he heard the door shut. Time dissolved into nothingness again as Cas sought unconsciousness.

   The next time he woke up, Cas felt that irritating ache that meant his bladder was full and grumpily staggered out of bed, his legs rubbery from lying in bed for so long. Eyes half-closed and blurry from sleep, Cas managed to bash his right knee against the corner of the dresser, gouging a cut into the thin skin stretched skin over his knee, which immediately began bleeding heavily, and bruising the area too. He cried out in response to the sudden pounding pain and fell to the floor, landing palms down, his left leg tucked under him to spare his injured knee. He heard fast footsteps and then Sam was springing into his bedroom, near blinding Cas as he flipped the main light on to see what had happened.

   ‘Ouch, Cas. Did you trip over?’ Sam asked as crouched down beside Cas, inspecting the wound as blood dribbled down Cas’s shin.

   ‘I caught my leg on the sharp corner of the dresser and then fell over,’ Cas rumbled grimly, his voice even rougher than usual due to disuse for a few days. His knee was throbbing fairly painfully but Cas was pretty sure it was nothing serious when he managed to bend his knee at Sam’s behest.

   ‘I better clean that up and possibly stitch it, just to be on the safe side. Hold up while I get the kit,’ Sam smiled warmly at him, his attempt at an answering smile obviously off-kilter as Sam’s eyes widened a little before he was getting up to fetch the kit with their day-to-day medical supplies in (‘Sometimes you just fall on your ass without a demon or whatever kicking you down,’ Dean had explained while cleaning a cut on Cas’s fingertip, ‘and that usually means a band-aid or maybe a bandage. The other kit is for the hardcore stuff; guts hanging out or head facing the wrong way.’ At Cas’s look of confusion, Dean had grinned fondly at the other man and applied a band-aid to Cas’s wound). At the memory, Cas had to swallow thickly and shake his head, trying to clear out the thoughts before his ridiculously mercurial human emotions began to rip apart his insides. As usual, the head shaking, teeth grinding and deep breaths did nothing to defend his heart; Cas was consumed again as the black wave of despair, loneliness and self-loathing crashed over his head.

   ‘Cas? Everything ok there, buddy?’ he heard Sam ask as he re-entered the room. Cas didn’t bother to open his eyes or speak for fear that his tears and voice would betray his sorrow, merely nodding. Sam said nothing else as he got to work and Cas let his mind wander as he heard Sam shuffling around inside the small kit. Images of Dean’s face as he had reached his orgasm drifted through his head; they were immediately followed by Dean looking at him with disgust and revulsion, his beautiful lips curled into an ugly sneer as he looked down upon the useless, quivering, pathet- ‘Oww!’

   ‘Shit, sorry Cas, this is going to hurt a little,’ Sam gave him an apologetic half-smile as he began threading the three inch gash closed to prevent infection. It stung and the feeling of his skin being tugged at made him feel uncomfortable, almost nauseous, but that wasn’t what surprised Cas the most; as soon as the pain hit, his mind was cleared of thoughts of Dean and his heart, his _soul_ , became momentarily, blissfully, unfettered by his painful emotions. The physical pain had such an immediacy to it that it blanked out the emotional pain, giving Cas blessed respite from the despair he had been incapacitated by.

   As Sam helped him up, insisting that Cas took some painkillers before leaving him to urinate, Cas eyed himself in the mirror, at Jimmy’s face, gaunt and aged from Castiel’s grief, and decided he would do whatever it took to stop feeling, just for a little while.

                                     *     *     *

   Dean clomped down the stairs into the bunker, aiming for normality as he saw his brother look up and give him the bitchface to end all faces everywhere; the one he reserves for when Dean has truly fucked up and betrayed him. Dean couldn’t help but flinch, waiting for his well-deserved punch to the face, as he reached the bottom of the stairs and Sam leapt up and marched over to him, his unnecessary hugeness a lot more imposing when coupled with his rage.

   ‘Oh, I’m not gonna punch you, Dean, though believe me, you fucking deserve it!’ Sam snarled into his brother’s face, grabbing his jacket and pulling Dean close so they were nose-to-nose, ‘No, the only thing that matters is that you pull your head _out of your ass, go speak to Cas and GROVEL UNTIL HE FUCKING FORGIVES YOU, YOU GOT IT?!’_  Sam yelled at the top of his voice, spittle peppering Dean’s face as Sam vented his fury, his huge hands holding onto fistfuls of Dean’s jacket as he shook him, hard enough to whack the back of his head off the bannister.

   ‘Ok, Sammy, ok! I’m sorry! I-‘

   ‘No! No excuses, no stalling, just get in there.’ Sam shook him one last time then turned away in disgust, Dean’s heart breaking a little as he saw the blatant loathing on his little brother’s face.

   ‘Sam, please-‘

   ‘Just go!’

   So Dean went, head hung in shame as he made his way to Cas’s bedroom, and prayed to a God he cared nothing for to please help him fix his mistakes.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Cas almost threw up when he realised the voice outside his door belonged to Dean. Cas knew he would come back eventually; there was no way Dean would ever abandon Sam, especially since he was still recovering from the trials. But Cas already knew how this was supposed to go, the only way it made sense. Dean would come back, ignore Cas because of the disgust he felt at ever touching him, and Cas would slowly rot inside his meat-cell and then die, having suffered the worst punishment he could imagine. That was right. That was just. A fallen angel so enamoured with himself as to think that the righteous man would ever feel anything for him, especially carnal feelings, was blasphemy and Cas was right to feel this way.

   ‘Cas, I… Sam wanted me to… Fuck.’

   He listened with a sort of detached intrigue as he heard Dean sigh and slap his hand against the wall outside his room.

   ‘Cas, can I come in, please?’

   He nodded, not trusting his voice as his chest tightened and his eyes stung, then realised Dean couldn’t see him so he uttered a weak ‘Come in,’ then tugged the sleeves of his oversized shirt down over the bandages on his arms, some still sticky from earlier in the day.

                                               *      *      *

   They had tried disposable razors, like Sam and Dean used, but Castiel’s facial hair was more than a match for them so Dean bought him an ‘old school’ razor which Cas understood was less often used in male grooming regimens.

   ‘Ok, what with you and your steel wool peach-fuzz there,’ Dean ran a finger over Cas’s stubble in the same fond way he had in Purgatory making Cas feel briefly warm inside as the pad of Dean’s finger stroked over his cheek, ‘you’re going to need this which is a little more hardcore than the usual. See it uses proper razor blades which you have to change but… well, don’t worry for now, let’s just get you shaved, ok?’

   Cas nodded at Dean in the mirror, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean, a steaming sink full of water in front of them. Dean had told Cas to follow his example so Cas watched very carefully, not wanting Dean to think he was incapable. When Dean leant forward and splashed the warm water on his face, Cas mirrored him exactly. When Dean squeezed white froth from a can and spread it over his face, Cas followed suit. However, when it came to the actual shaving, Cas managed to immediately slice a cut into his cheek, gasping as droplets of blood fell into the sink and the shaving foam dripped into the cut, making it sting.

   ‘Ah, shit, Cas! Don’t go sideways, these things are as sharp as our blades, you’ll massacre your face.’ Cas blushed as Dean wiped the blood away from his face then began to shave him. He used slow, gentle strokes, quietly explaining to Cas as he went along.

   Soon Cas found himself lulled into a meditative state as Dean carefully shaved him, allowing Dean to move his face this way and that as the taller man shaved his face clean of scruff. Cas couldn’t help but feel a little breathless at the intimacy of this act, though he was sure it was just his imagination that Dean was gazing into his eyes and gently caressing his face as he finished the human ritual.

   ‘There you go, fresh as a baby’s ass,’ Dean patted him on the cheek before wiping his face with a warm cloth, removing the excess foam and hair, leaving Cas feeling clean and relaxed for the first time in a while.

   ‘Now, I don’t wanna baby you but these things,’ Dean held up a small white rectangular package holding more of the blades for the razor, ‘are really, really sharp and it’s easy for them to slip and cut you so, ‘til you get used to ‘em, gimme a call when you need to change them over. You’ll know because the shave won’t feel as smooth. Ok?’

   ‘Yes, Dean,’ Cas nodded, careful to remember the importance of the advice Dean was giving him.

   ‘Cas, don’t worry, it’s not that difficult to get the hang of. You’ll be used to it in no time,’ Dean smiled and patted him on the back as he placed the razor blades into the small mirrored cabinet in Cas’s room.

                                                             *     *     *

   Of course Castiel knew of self-harm, an ubiquitous term to describe the purposeful injury of the human body but he had always been taught that such an act was blasphemy, similar to suicide in its self-destructiveness, an affront to the Lord who had created each beautiful human. But, while Cas had had an understanding of human suffering as an abstract idea, he had never truly begun to understand the true depths of despair and self-loathing the human soul could feel. Even knowing Dean and Sam and watching them go through their various trials, Castiel had never really felt before, not really.

   The morning, or afternoon, after Cas hurt his knee, he found himself locked into his bathroom, holding a fresh razor blade he had slid out of the pack that Dean bought him. His knee throbbed a little when he moved it a certain way and the tug of the stitches still made him feel sick but the pain was not enough. A dull ache was not enough to obliterate his endless thoughts about Dean. Cas did not know how long Dean and been gone but it felt like both an eternity and a fresh wound that his mind picked and prodded at, the feelings not dulling at all.

   With a deep breath, Castiel dragged the blade across his left inner arm, wincing and shutting his eyes as the sharp implement cut into his skin. Cas looked at the wound and found himself feeling disappointed; it was a small gash, barely two inches in length and little blood seeped from it, just a few droplets beading in the slit he had made.

   Frustrated, Cas swiped at his arm again and was relieved when the cut was a lot deeper and more painful than the first, rivulets of blood immediately trickling down his arm, pain overtaking his mind as the wound pulsed. All thoughts of Dean were obliterated as Cas poured antiseptic liquid over the cut, hissing involuntarily as the medical fluid stung the skin inside his arm. Immediately, Cas decided that the cleansing of the wound was painful enough to be worth including in the ritual, keeping the wound clean enough to deter Sam from noticing and making his arm throb painfully enough that he could collapse back in his bed, a thin bandage wrapping around the wound to prevent any stray drops of blood from betraying him to anyone who might see.

   As Cas buried himself in his ripe blankets, he found he was both elated and ashamed of what he had just done; the emotions safer and more palatable than what he had been feeling before.

   Cas fell asleep with an empty smile on his face.

                                                   *     *    *

   Soon enough, both of Cas’s arms were wrapped in bandages he had stolen from the medical kit and he had to move onto his legs. Careful to keep wearing very large Sam-sized shirts to keep the hunter from realising what Cas was doing and stopping him, Cas moved onto his thighs, carving deep gashes into them anytime emotions regarding Dean surfaced. He was surprised, really, by what a simple thing it was; physical pain overrode emotional pain so why not simply inflict physical pain upon oneself until the emotional pain subsided? Cas thought deeply on the subject and decided that his Father had created such a mechanism in order for his creations to survive the abhorrent trials they faced as human beings.

   Because Cas was pouring vigorous amounts of antiseptic fluid onto the wounds, they did not get infected and Cas found them easy to hide from Sam who, bless him, was still checking on Cas regularly, bringing him food to eat and talking with him about pleasant banalities that made him feel calm; the weather, films and books he might like, that sort of thing. Cas found that, since discovering the effects of self-injury, he no longer felt much compunction about eating. It was still often unpleasant and he never sought out food on his own, preferring to sleep and occasionally read one of the books Sam had brought into his room than leave his strange hybrid sanctuary and prison cell to seek nutrition. But, when Sam came in with a bowl of this or that, Cas dutifully ate it, thanked Sam, assured the sad-eyed hunter that he was fine and then continued either reading or sleeping.

   After a few days or maybe weeks (Cas was unaware and uncaring about the passage of time as humans recorded it), Cas realised he was running out of easy-to-hide places to injure so he began punching the hard tiles in his bathroom, bruising and splitting the skin across his knuckles, pleased to find it provided a longer lasting pain that he could extend by pressing hard against the bruises, keeping his mind clear as he continued his pathetic existence.

   It was this that alerted Sam to what Cas was doing.

                                            *     *     *

      Cas tried to say it’s unlocked but nothing but a dry wheeze came out of his throat. He swallowed what felt like a pile of gravel and managed to choke out the words again, some strange vestige of mortal pride stirring in him as he realised how awful he must look.

   The door opened slowly and Cas felt a short painful stab to the heart as Dean walked through his door, looking tired, sad and hungover, like he had been on a bender that had lasted a lot longer than it should have. There was several days scruff on his face, similar in length to Cas’s and he was hunched slightly, like his head was too heavy to hold up properly.

   There was a full minute of awkward silence after Dean shut the door behind him and leaned against it, staring at the carpet, his feet close together, accentuating his bow legs. Castiel was at a loss as to what he should or could say, too frightened of saying anything that would cause the hunter to leave again. Absently he picked at the healing scabs on his left hand, pulling just enough to cause him pain, the ritual banishing of his emotions having become a useful habit of late.

   ‘You know, I, ah… I wasn’t gonna be away for so long. I didn’t mean to be but, sometimes you just keep hearing about cases and time flies,’ Dean managed to meet his eyes for a second as he laughed humourlessly then dropped his gaze back to the floor.

   ‘I understand, Dean. I am…’ Cas bit into his bottom lip as he tried to keep his voice under control, ‘I am sorry if I made you feel like you had to leave. I… We-‘

   Dean pulled away from the door, linking both his hands on the top of his head as he began to pace up and down the length of the room. ‘Castiel, no, it wasn’t… it isn’t you…’ He shook his head and pulled a little on his hair before finally turning to face Cas who was quivering in his nest of books and blankets, terrified of what Dean was going to tell him as he caught the other man’s golden-green gaze and saddened by Dean’s usage of his full name, something he hadn’t said in years, ‘I never should’ve… I’m fucked up, ok? I fuck things up, always have, everything I’ve ever tried!’ Dean threw out his arms to indicate Cas being one of the things he had fucked up.

   ‘I hurt the people I care about and I drag them through the muck with me and I never should’ve… I never will again, I won’t... do that, to you again, not ever, ok? And I’m… I’m…’ Dean rubbed a hand down his face in the way that meant he was hurting, the way that made Cas want to take the hand away and kiss it until the light came back into Dean’s eyes, hold him until his shivers stopped.

   Dean pulled in a shaking breath before falling to his knees, hands splayed out flat on his thighs as a lone tear dripped its way down his freckled cheek, Cas’s heart throbbing painfully hard in his chest, his arms aching to touch the man in front of him, the man who was so upset to hurt his friend that he was crying without shame.

   ‘I never should’ve touched you, Castiel, and I’m so, so sorry,’ and then the beautiful hunter covered his face with his hands as Cas tried to digest the words he had said. As their meaning washed over him, Castiel began to feel the one emotion that had lain dormant since Dean left; he began to feel rage.

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

As Sam watched his petulant, emotionally constipated dick of a brother make his way towards Cas’s bedroom, Sam couldn’t help but hope that Dean’s return, even if he still managed to fuck things up six ways from Sunday, would be enough to give Cas hope, something to live for, something to stop hurting himself for.

   Sam had been so relieved to find Cas in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading Pride & Prejudice with a confused look on his face, that he marched right over and wrapped his arms around the smaller man in a big bear hug and squeezed.

   ‘Umm… Sam, not that I do not appreciate this gesture but it is becoming harder to breathe,’ Cas croaked.

   ‘Oh, aha, sorry Cas, just happy to see you up and about… Erm, good job!’ Sam cringed inwardly at his own awkwardness but Cas merely nodded up at him then went back to his book, gingerly sipping at his black coffee. Sam was gratified to see there was enough left for him so poured out a mug for himself, throwing some hazelnut syrup and milk into it while Dean wasn’t around to mock him.

   Sam’s hand clenched itself around his hot mug as he thought of his brother. It had been over two weeks since Dean’d left for the supposed job in Iowa and no one had heard from him since. He had given up on calling and texting him, deciding that it was a pointless waste of time. Let him have his stupid, childish, selfish gay panic as far from Cas as possible; the former angel didn’t need to bear witness to Dean’s self-flagellation, he’d been hurt enough. For a while there, Sam’d started to get really desperate, almost called Charlie and Garth for help when Cas wouldn’t talk or come out of his bedroom but then he figured Cas wouldn’t want his despair to be public knowledge, neither would Dean, though Sam had little consideration for that asshole right now. It was so typical of Dean, never thinking things through, not seeing what was right in front of him, always running from anything slightly emotional and decimating other people in the process.

   Sam sat down opposite Cas, trying to crouch and fold himself in so he wouldn’t startle the other man. Cas made another one of his horrible attempts to smile, which ended up looking like someone was standing on his balls and demanding he pretend he liked it. As he began reading again, Sam felt his face fall at the sight of the former angel; he was painfully thin, more so than Dean left, apparently only eating some of the food Sam had brought to his room. Of course he had wanted to stay with the man and encourage him to eat every time but sometimes Cas had seemed so desperate to be alone, ashamed in the way he curled up and stared blankly at the wall. It was sad and humbling that Cas could love his dumbass brother so much; Sam couldn’t help but feel shame on his behalf, as though Sam’s attempts at kindness could ever make up for how Dean had made Cas feel.

   Cas frowned at something he was reading and Sam noted how much deeper the lines around his and mouth, how sharp the jut of his cheekbones were and the heavy bruise-like bags that languished underneath his tired eyes. The blue of his eyes that had once been majestic and terrifying was now muted by the weight of his sadness, almost as though something had died inside. Sam wanted to make it better, he wanted to do something, give Cas something, anything to make the man’s life better than this; the poor guy deserved that. But Sam knew, it would have to wait until this, whatever this was, that had happened with Dean was resolved, one way or another.

   Drawn out of his thoughts, Sam watched as Cas turned a page in his book, wincing a little as also lifted his coffee mug. Sam felt his head snap back and his eyebrows draw together in a frown as the too-big sleeve of Cas’s shirt slipped down, revealing his hands and a part of his arm; there were bruises on Cas’s knuckles and scabs like he’d hit something solid over and over again, injuries Sam recognised from when Dean did the same thing. He still remembers the first time he saw Dean really lose it like that, punching mindlessly at a wall until Sam managed to pull him away and break the self-destructive trance his brother had fallen into. More disturbing though were edges of vertical cuts that disappeared under the clean bandage wrapped around Castiel’s arm. When Sam glanced at his other arm, he noticed the slight lumpiness under the grey shirt that probably signified another bandage.

   Suddenly his coffee tasted too sweet, disgusting, sloshing around inside him, making him feel sick as the realisation hit him; Cas was hurting himself. He knew about the not eating, it was hard to miss, but Cas had been doing better, a little better anyway, eating more, talking a bit more; here he was calmly sipping his coffee and reading a book like everything was fine. Well, sort of fine. Seems he’d merely found another form of self-destruction. Sam felt a terrible pang in his heart and then anger directed at his selfish asshole brother. 

   _Jesus Christ, Dean, how could you do this to him?_   

                                                  *     *     *

   ‘Dean, are you telling me you left because you think this was your fault?’ Cas asked, cautiously as his hands began to shake, flashbacks of a similar conversation post-Purgatory repaying itself in his mind. Dean’s self-loathing and self-absorption so profound that the hunter actually remembered things in a way that fit his warped sense of self as opposed to what they really are.

   ‘I’m sorry, Castiel, I never should’ve-‘

   ‘Stop saying my name like it _means something!!_ ’ Cas snarled at him, cutting him off, enraged by how Dean said his name, both reverent and pitying at the same time, like Cas was a stranger, like everything they had been through together suddenly meant nothing. Dean’s head snapped up at the tone of his voice and Cas had to take a deep breath to try to calm the urge to lash out at the frustrating man in front of him.

   ‘You realise that I asked you.’ Cas cut him off, a little bite edging into his voice as it started to become clear what Dean had been thinking. ‘That I asked you if you were sure, that I _told_ you that it was what I wanted?’

   Dean blinked slowly, a confused look on his face as his tear-reddened eyes met the furious blue of Cas’s the former-angel’s anger giving his voice and eyes some of their long lost power back, as though grace still pulsed inside Jimmy Novak’s tired body.

   ‘Cas, you were drunk and I-‘

   ‘You were also drunk, at my behest; I suggested it, remember?’ Cas threw back the blankets he was swathed in and walked over to Dean, furiously glaring down at the shame-ridden man. ‘Just like I told you that… that I wanted _you_ to be the first to touch me-‘

   Dean groaned and dropped his shaking head into his hands, clutching at it as though he had a migraine. ‘Cas, you didn’t know what you were asking and I-‘

   ‘Not everything is about you!’ Cas suddenly yelled, surprising himself as much as Dean who jumped a little as his head snapped back to meet Cas’s glare. ‘If you thought that I needed… _protecting_ from this, from what happened between us…’ Cas trailed off, hands shaking with the urge to punch the idiot man who thought so little of him.

   Dean staggered to his feet, hands held out in front of him, trying to placate Castiel, which only made the blue-eyed man even angrier. ‘No, Cas, I mean, that’s-‘

   ‘I am older than you can begin to comprehend! I was a warrior of God! I rescued you and your brother from Hell and this is what you think of me?! Suddenly I am a weak thing to be coddled, you don’t respect me enough to just TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH?!’

    Dean’s eyes widened as Cas’s voice got louder and more angry, the other man’s eyes flashing, his teeth bared as he stretched to his full height and bellowed ‘I LOVE YOU, YOU SELFISH BASTARD!!’ then wrapped his hands around the back of Dean’s head and smashed his lips against Dean’s in a breathless kiss.

                                                  *     *     *

       Dean was responding before he even knew what was happening, clutching Cas to him like he was his only source of oxygen, kissing him hard enough to bruise their lips, tongues lashing together, a surprised gasp spilling from his lips as Cas slammed him against the wall, reminiscent of the time he beat the crap out of him, the time Dean couldn’t handle how excited he was when Cas proved his dominance over him and, in his sick way, was glad when Cas started to hurt him, reaffirming the reality that Dean deserved it. This was like that in that Cas was furious with him, biting savagely at his lower lip, making Dean suck in a breath when Cas’s tongue laved the abused flesh, his cock throbbing inside his jeans.

   ‘I am not a child, Dean! You don’t get to decide what you protect me from!’ Cas shouted between kisses, the full length of his body pressed against Dean’s, his hands grabbing at Dean’s neck, his hips, his shoulders, anywhere Cas could push him. Dean’s fingers were clutched in Cas’s perpetual bed hair, pulling the other man’s lips even harder against his, wanting the pain, needing this to be real in a way he could understand.

   ‘I love you, Dean Winchester.’ Cas whispered as he pulled back from Dean’s mouth, the hunter ashamed at the groan the loss elicited from him. Cas grabbed Dean’s chin and tilted his head so they were staring into each other’s eyes, less than five inches apart. ‘I need you to be honest with me, please. Please respect me enough to tell me the truth.’

   Dean felt the distant ache of his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as Cas refused to let him look away, confronting him with such vehemence that Dean could hardly breathe, too confused, too frightened of his own feelings to say the words he knew Cas deserved, that he knew were true.

   Cas’s stunning blue eyes paled as they filled with what Dean was horrified to realise were tears, showing a terrible vulnerability that Dean never wanted to see in his angel’s eyes ever again.

‘I love you, Cas,’ Dean whispered, feeling the last of his composure slip as Castiel, angel of the Lord, smiled brighter than any man ever before him and laughed as Dean pulled him in for another kiss.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Realising there was a good chance he was going to regret it, Sam pressed his ear against Castiel’s bedroom door, wincing even as he listened, trying to work out if the two men had made up, killed each other or were, you know, in the process of making up. Hearing nothing but gentle snoring, Sam very carefully turned the door handle and opened the door a crack, just enough to peek in and make sure all was well, or as well as it could be.

   Sam felt a goofy smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of his brother and his friend curled up together, fully clothed, arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined, foreheads pressed together, both men smiling a little in their sleep. With a relieved sigh and a happy heart, Sam closed the door and left them alone.

                                          *      *      *

   The men collapsed down onto the bed, Cas laughing with joy as Dean wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close as they kicked the blankets out of the way and settled into each other’s arms. Castiel felt that almost-painful thud of his heart as Dean looked at him, his eyes a sliver of soft golden-green surrounding large black pupils. Cas knew that blown-pupils usually meant happiness, lust, love and wondered if his looked the same. They looked at each other in silent wonder for a moment before Dean ducked his head then rolled onto his back.

   ‘Christ, Cas, this isn’t what I was expecting. I thought…’ he trailed off. Cas propped his head up on his right hand and looked at the soft curve of Dean’s lips as the other man blew out a breath. ‘I dunno what I thought, just, I didn’t wanna _hope_ …’

   Cas reached out with his left hand and gently turned Dean’s head to face him then pressed their lips together. Dean huffed a laugh into Cas’s mouth then kissed him hard, his tongue licking at Cas’s lips, holding him tighter when Cas opened his mouth, teasing Dean’s tongue with his own, his entire body thrumming with a desperate need. Dean rolled onto his side and swung a leg over Cas’s, running his fingers through Cas’s dark, messy hair, setting off a chain of tingling sensations that Cas felt all over his body, a small gasp falling unbidden from his lips as Dean moved his face down to bury it in Cas’s neck. Cas desperately wanted to feel of Dean against him but, hearing the hunter yawn, Cas was happy just to be together.

   ‘Cas, I don’t wanna talk, can we just…’ Dean whispered then yawned, burrowing into Cas’s touch, clearly exhausted by the emotions of the day. Soon both men were snoring.

                                                   *     *     *

   Sam was in the kitchen, drinking coffee and trying to read a book on Aramaic translations, hoping that the knowledge would be useful somewhere down the line. Hearing a shuffling noise, he looked up to see his big brother wandering into the kitchen, wearing one of the robes that he’d found and washed, effortlessly Dean even in a soft robe. Sam felt an immediate thrum of anger when he saw him but it was soon quashed by the sheepish look Dean sent his way.

   ‘Hey, Sammy. Uhm, any coffee left?’ Dean mumbled, awkwardly searching for coffee mugs in the soup cupboard.

   ‘In the coffee maker,’ Sam said, a little bite to his voice that made Dean bite his lower lip. ‘Also, the mugs don’t live with the soup. No one wants tomato coffee.’

   Dean raised his head, a sadly hopeful look on his face that made Sam want to reassure him, even after he’d been such a monumental douche. That was the thing with Dean; no matter how bad he fucked up, you had to forgive him because his intentions were always good, always trying to help everyone but himself. Sam sighed and took a big swig of his coffee as Dean poured himself a cup.

   ‘You know what I’m gonna say, Dean’ Sam kept his tone level but he found himself tense, waiting for the usual bullshit Dean came out with when anything emotional needed to be discussed. Dean scuffed his bare feet against the kitchen tile and then nodded, gulping down coffee as he settled down opposite Sam at the table.

   ‘Yeah, I know Sam. I just…’ Dean sighed and gulped down more too-hot black coffee, ‘Can you hear me out before you rip me a new asshole? Please?’

   Sam pressed his lips together, taking in the desperate look in his brother’s eyes before he nodded and motioned with his hand for Dean to continue.

   ‘Ok. I guess… I guess you know about Cas… and me. How we… you know, about each other.’ Sam tried not to roll his eyes, wanting his brother to finish his speech.

   ‘Ok, so, you know the night we got drunk? The Matrix night?’ Sam nodded. Dean hesitated then chugged the rest of his coffee, wiping little droplets off his lips.

   ‘Well, I… Fuck, I don’t know why I did it but I knocked on Cas’s door and we…’Dean trailed off and twined his fingers together around his now empty mug.

   ‘Had sex?’ Sam prompted, biting his lip a little when Dean widened his eyes in horror.

   ‘No! Jesus, Sam! No, we didn’t… not like that… Anyway, you don’t need to know the details.’

   ‘No, I really don’t.’ Sam shook his head emphatically as he spoke and felt his mouth twitch when Dean glared at him. ‘Ok, so you and Cas did, whatever, and then what? You just bailed on him? When he was already so fucking fragile, Dean?’ Sam felt his voice raising and sat back, trying to calm his anger. He knew his brother was useless with emotional matters, always had been, always _had to be_ , conditioned by their idiot father who never let them just be kids, never let them live. Sam knew why his brother was the way that he was; all the guilt, all the homophobic bullshit John would spew. Sam took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He’d been so wound up by the fear that Cas would just waste away or hurt himself in a way that Sam couldn’t fix, that Sam had lost sight of why Dean may have reacted as he did. And, for all his faults, it seemed that he was ready to make amends, to be with Cas in the way that the both of them had been dying for since they first met. Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

   ‘Dean, I know you didn’t mean to hurt him. I just… I was so worried about him and I couldn’t do anything because he wanted you. Needed you.’ Sam bit his lower lip again as Dean dipped his head, the excruciating weight of guilt showing in the set of his shoulders. With a deep breath, Sam readied himself to tell Dean what he knew to be the truth.

   ‘Dean, Cas loves you. You know that right? And I don’t mean angel love for humanity, I mean he fucking _loves_ you…’ Sam felt a sting as his eyes as he saw drops of moisture drop onto the table between them, quickly swiped away by the sleeve of Dean’s robe.

   ‘I know, Sam. I… You know I…’ Dean’s shaky voice broke as he dipped his head lower, resting his chin on his chest, a sign of contrition. Forgetting all the rules of the Winchesters, Sam rested his hand on Dean’s arm and shook it gently as his brother composed himself. Looking up at him with red rimmed, bright green eyes, Dean let his face be truly open, silently pleading for Sam’s understanding. Sam saw the helpless love Dean felt for Cas and couldn’t help the little half smile on his face.

   ‘You love him too and I’m pretty sure you’ll be together forever so pull your head out your ass and go be with him. I’m gonna head off to Rufus’s cabin for a few days, give you guys some space.’

   Dean laughed, a sad little chuckle that made Sam’s heart twang as Dean smiled gently and nodded his assent at Sam.

   They were gonna be ok.

  


	14. Chapter Fourteen

    ‘Oh, oh, Dean! Uh, uhhh…’ Cas gasped as Dean teased the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue before swallowing him back down, as much as he could anyway. He was getting much better at not gagging and there was minimal drool as Cas grabbed Dean’s hair with both his hands and cried out wordlessly as he came in Dean’s mouth. Dean swallowed dutifully, still a little unsure about the whole cum thing but not enough to stop swallowing it, and licked his swollen lips, making sure they were all clean as Cas pulled him up, one hand still in his hair, the other wrapped around the back of his neck, and kissed him slowly and deeply, enjoying the taste of himself inside Dean’s mouth.

   ‘My turn,’ Cas whispered into Dean’s ear as he pushed him back onto the bed and started to unzip his jeans. Dean was achingly hard, had been for a while, so when Cas released him from his boxer shorts, the cool air was a welcome relief. Dean propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch as Cas wrapped his beautiful pillowy lips around his cock and started to suck and lick. Dean figured Cas had been watching porn and looking on the net to get tips because every time he gave Dean head was even better than the last.

   Dean gasped and bucked his hips on instinct as Cas flapped his tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock before sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks as he took Dean deep into his throat; the hot convulsing heat of it making Dean cry out and grab at the sheets. Cas hummed and reached behind his balls to gently stroke his perineum before pressing two fingertips against it, sending off just-this-side-of-painful sparks that had Dean moaning and throwing his head back, his orgasm already so close. Despite the shock at the feeling when Cas stroked his hole with a lubed finger, Dean couldn’t help but make a desperate keening noise when the finger breached him and slid inside.

   ‘Oh, fuck me! Cas!’ Dean arched his back and came so hard that his vision clouded over and he couldn’t move his limbs, sinking into the bed as Cas climbed up and lay down beside him. Still panting a little, Dean turned his head to face Cas. ‘Dude! What the fuck was that?’

   Cas raised his eyebrows and tilted his head a little, making his confused kitten face. ‘I was trying to manually stimulate your prostate, Dean. It is located in the-‘

   ‘I know where it’s located, Cas, Jesus. I mean, you know…’ Dean made a vague whirling motion with his hand that even he wasn’t sure what it meant. Cas frowned.

   ‘I do not know, Dean. Did you not enjoy it? You seemed to enjoy it.’ One side of Cas’s mouth quirked up even as a faint pink blush spread across his cheeks. Dean loved it when Cas blushed; it was so human. He reached out and cupped a hand around Cas’s stubbly cheek, feeling the warmth blooming under the skin.

   ‘Yeah, Cas, I did but… The, ah, brown eye is a sensitive dude, you know? You can’t just explore… unexplored territory without a little warning… and lots of cleaning.’

   The smile dropped from Cas’s face and he propped himself up on his elbows, concern in his eyes. ‘Did I hurt you, Dean? I’m sorry, I know it can be p-‘

   ‘No, no, hey, Cas,’ Dean pulled his angel in closer, tucking his head under his chin, ‘No you didn’t hurt me, it’s just, maybe we should talk about… doing all that before we actually do it.’ He felt Cas’s head bob in agreement under his chin.

   ‘Yes, Dean, we shall do that… tomorrow.’

Dean chuckled and pressed a kiss to Cas’s forehead. He heard the contented little sound Cas made and smiled, silently pulling him in even closer to Dean’s left side. Cas made another happy sound, almost like a chirp and Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

   ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you started purring one day.’

   Cas huffed a little then curled around Dean, throwing his left leg over then between Dean’s legs as he snuggled, and there was no other word for it, closer. At first Dean had felt weird about the snuggling; he’d never really done it before, not even with Lisa, not in this way. Nothing before had ever been like… this. Maybe it was because they had seen each other at their worst, maybe it was because they’d fought together, had a bond forged in war, but Dean felt oddly safe with Cas, like he could relax and just be without all the constant noise and fear. He’d never felt anything like it before and it made him happier than he’d ever been.

   ‘I love you, Dean,’ Cas whispered into his ear and Dean smiled again, eyelids fluttering open, his view filled with beautiful blue. Cas gently kissed him on the lips then settled down to sleep, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he drifted off.

   ‘I love you, Cas,’ Dean whispered just as Cas began to snore.

                                                            *     *     *

   As happy as Sam was for his brother and his friend, and he really is happy for them, he can’t help but be slightly icked by the constant PDA’s and all the snuggly cooking. Now that Cas was happy, he had started eating properly, much to the brother’s relief, and had actually started to enjoy cooking, trying out all different types of recipes that he found on the internet and using Dean as his guinea pig. Unfortunately for Dean (and fucking hilariously for Sam), Cas’s cooking wasn’t… great (Sam tried Cas’s chicken Alfredo once; never again). The first time he walked in on Cas feeding Dean bits of the pie he’d made for Dean (which seemed to be burnt on one side and smelled funny), Sam had to leave the room so he wouldn’t burst out laughing at the sight of his brother, pie aficionado, feigning enthusiasm and trying not grimace as Cas fed him his terrible, half-burnt-half-raw apple pie (‘I don’t know how he does it, man, but even his pie tastes like ass,’ Dean whispered as Sam cried with laughter into his shirt sleeve so that Cas wouldn’t hear).

   Wandering into the gun range and finding them making out like desperate teenagers against the wall had added to the unnecessary things Sam had lodged in his head. But, the absolute worst, the thing that made Sam wish he was deaf, was the sound of them having sex. They were not quiet.

   Sam had taken to wrapping a pillow around his head as he heard, for what seemed like the millionth time, Cas moaning his brother’s name and the bed squeaking as they did… whatever it was they did. Sam didn’t want to know.

   In view of all this, he really should’ve seen it coming. He knew Cas fairly well and knew his dumbass brother better than he needed to so he should have realised that one of them was going to be annoying enough to come to him with their awkward questions. Part of him was relieved that it was Cas; at least he was understandably innocent when he asked questions.

   Sam’s sitting in the library, idly surfing the internet under the guise of research for what sounded like a simple salt ‘n’ burn job Sam intended to take care of alone so as to get some time away from the other men, when Cas wanders in, holding two cups of coffee and that look he gets on his face when he wants to talk about something. Sam’s happy to note that his friend appears to have gained weight and all the cuts on his arms have faded, not to be replaced with more. The life is back in his kind blue eyes and he’s walking with a little more confidence, not so much looking like he was being crushed under the weight of all his losses.

   ‘Hello, Sam. I made you a coffee,’ Cas said calmly as he placed the steaming mug next to Sam’s right hand then sat down at the table opposite him.

   ‘Thanks, Cas.’ Sam smiles and takes a sip, pleased to note that Cas had remembered the hazelnut syrup.

   ‘Sam, I was wondering if you could perhaps help me with something. I’d like to surprise Dean and I would go alone except I think I may require assistance once I arrive.’

   ‘Ok, Cas, what did you have in mind?’ Sam asked as he took another sip of his coffee.

   ‘Well, as you know, Dean and I are in a romantic relationship.’ Sam felt his stomach drop as he immediately guessed where this might be going. ‘We have not had penetrative anal sex yet-‘

   ‘Jesus, Cas!’ Sam yelped, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline, his hands coming up to cover his face as if that could kill off the image of…them… doing that… ‘Christ, brain bleach needs to be a real thing.’ Sam peeked between his fingers to see an annoyed-looking Cas staring at him, his brow furrowed, mouth pouted.

   ‘Sam, please be sensible. You are, I am sure, aware that Dean and I have engaged in several types of non-penetrative sex because we are in love,’ Cas huffed, looking and sounding offended at Sam’s reaction to his words. Sam sighed and dropped his hands from his face and tried to force his brain into neutral territory; Cas and Dean are in love, Sam knows they do…stuff and is adult enough to handle it and help his friend. Really. He is.

   ‘Yes, Cas, I am aware, it’s just hard… difficult to hear about your brother’s sex life, you know?’ Cas tilted his head to the side and stared. Sam sighed. ‘Just tell me what you need. Use as little detail as possible.’

   Cas squinted at him for a moment and Sam felt a slight tug of sadness, remembering how he’d thought it so funny that a being as powerful as Castiel could be so baffled by things and how Dean always referenced movies and books more when Cas was around, just to see that head-tilt and those squinty eyes. He never told Sam that of course but Sam already knew that’s why he did it. His brother had loved the angel even then. Sam sighed again and mentally girded his loins.

   ‘How can I help?’

                                                           *     *     *

   Sam had seriously underestimated just how mortifying this trip to the pharmacy would be. He would have thought that Cas would’ve learnt a little modesty by now, a little something about privacy; nice human shame. But no. Cas did not give one solitary fuck. Sam became immediately aware of this as soon as Cas unfolded his little list and said, far louder than necessary, ‘I wonder where they keep the anal lubricant,’ before marching off down one of the aisles, a shame-faced and furiously blushing Sam slumping down and cursing his height as the many other customers turned to stare.

   Cas was already holding two separate containers of lube when Sam hunched down next to him and was reading the information on them.

   ‘Sam, what do you think? This one is thicker which is better for anal sex, lasts longer so there won’t be any rectal tearing…’ _This is proof that I never escaped from Hell,_ Sam thought as Cas wiffled on about water-based versus silicone-based and other things Sam never wanted to hear about. _Lucifer will pop up any minute now, holding a megaphone and pictures of Dean and Cas doing it on the kitchen table._

‘Sam? Sam!’ Cas was right up in his face, noses almost touching, filling his vision with bright blue as Sam blinked and came back to the present. ‘Sam, are you unwell? You look very pale.’

   ‘I’m fine, Cas. Look, why not get both then you’re, erm, covered either way.’

   Cas looked from him to the bottles and then smiled, the big one that showed off his gums and made Dean make that goofy smooshy face with the heart eyes, then placed both containers into a shopping basket that seemed to appear from nowhere.

   ‘Good idea. Thank you, Sam,’ Cas said, turning the smile on him before looking down at his list and wandering off, humming to himself under his breath. ‘Hmmm, now where are the anal douche kits?’


	15. Chapter Fifteen

‘Woah, who lit Sam's ass on fire? What happened? Where did you guys go?’ Dean asked Cas once he heard the hurried clang of the bunker door closing as Sam made a break for it, moving as though hellhounds were on his tail, shouting out ‘I’mgonnagoseeCharlieorKevinorwhateverbyeDean!’ as he ran past, stupid girl hair flapping around his huge head as he belted up the stairs.

   ‘He helped me with an errand to the pharmacy,’ Cas said, small crinkle between his eyebrows as he stared at the stairs Sam had just ran up, ‘I think I may have embarrassed him.’

                                                   *     *     *

   ‘So, you just walked in there and… and…’ and Dean was off again, howling with laughter as he rolled around on the bed, clutching his stomach, not able to look at Cas lest he laugh himself to death.

   ‘Dean, it really wasn’t that funny,’ Cas said, sounding a little put out as he stood at the end of the bed, holding his bag of stuff that Dean hadn’t even looked at yet. Dean bit the inside of his cheek and took a few shaky breaths before sitting up and facing Cas.

   ‘I’m sorry, Cas, it was just… a funny visual thing. So, erm, what did you get, apart from the lube?’

   Dean was kinda glad that Sam had been mercilessly dragged into this; it let Dean focus on the joy of embarrassing his baby brother instead of his own anxieties about what they were planning. It’d been a long time since Dean’d popped a cherry; the fact that it was a very male cherry was unnerving at best. John had always made it clear what he thought of gay people, especially men (‘Look at that mincing faggot. Bet his father’s fucking mortified’), so Dean had never allowed himself to do anything with men, never wanted his father to find out and be even more disappointed in him. Now though, now there was Cas and Dean loved him, more than he had ever loved any of the women he’d been with, more than he ever thought possible, and Dean _wanted_ him, in every way possible. He lived for watching Cas fall apart under his ministrations, that hitching gasp of breath as Cas’s back began to arch and his balls pulled tight, the look in his eyes, both innocent and seductive, as he cried out Dean’s name.

   Dean was nervous, yeah, but, fuck, he was excited too.

                                                    *     *     *

   One thing Castiel did not like about this process was having to clean the area. He conceded that having a vagina meant that sexual intercourse could be a little more spontaneous. However, despite not really ever having a sexuality beyond Dean, Cas was pretty sure that he was gay anyway as the gay porn he had been watching surreptitiously for a while now, to learn from, had definitely excited him in more ways than one. But, when it came right down to it, it was all about Dean; it always had been.

   Cas felt his heart flutter with anticipation and nerves as he finished cleaning himself and stepped out of the shower. They’d mutually decided on Castiel being the recipient, the ‘bottom’ as it’s known, which Cas could tell Dean was relieved about. As much as Cas knew Dean loved him, and that knowledge made his chest feel like it was expanding impossibly, ready to burst, Cas knew that Dean still had years of homophobia and deeply ingrained ideas about gender to overcome. They were getting there though; in truth it had been easier than Cas could ever have hoped. Well, once they were finally together anyway. Dean’s sexual appetite was voracious and he touched and kissed Cas in ways that Castiel had never even imagined, not in all his years of fantasising about his beautiful Dean.

   As Cas began to towel dry himself, quickly rubbing at his hair and letting it fall where it may (‘One of the things I love most about you, Cas, your just-been-fucked-hair.’), he eyed the tub of lubricant that sat next to the bathroom sink. Dean’s insistence that they use a condom ‘just in case’ meant that it was even more important to use a long-lasting lube so they had settled on the silicone (‘Cas, can we just… you know?’ ‘Dean, this is important. We must discuss everything thoroughly.’ ‘Ok Cas, yeah, whatever you think is best. We’ll use that one…’). Cas draped his wet towel over the rail and picked up the tub. Dean had been blushing and shy when Cas brought up the question of mechanics and preparation but Cas could tell he was excited from the way he kept chewing on his lip. It soon became obvious that Dean had done his own research, which made Cas feel warm inside, so the conversation was put aside in favour of laying down on the bed and writhing against each other, nipping and kissing. After a while Dean rolled on top and held Cas’s arms above his head and he pulled up Cas’s t shirt to bare his chest, leaning his forehead against Castiel’s warm skin. Cas could feel he was hard as Dean thrust his hips, gasping as they rubbed together, setting off aching sparks deep within both men as they rutted, grabbing and pulling at each other, lost in sensation. After they both reached orgasm, Cas groaning into Dean’s neck, Dean thrusting down against him, the men drifted to sleep together, too sated to talk any more.

 The next evening, Dean called Sam to be certain that he would be away for a few days, safely eating pizza with Charlie, Kevin and Mrs Tran, and, as Dean put it, geeking out on video games (‘Sammy, could you be more of a nerd?’ … ‘No I don’t! You suck!’ … ‘Yeah, Yeah, see ya Sammy. Oh and, by the way, thanks for the lube!’ Cas heard an indignant squawk from Sam as Dean chuckled and hung up) so that they could have the privacy they needed to make love for the first time.

                                                     *     *     *

   ‘You know, it’s gonna hurt a little, Cas, no matter how much we prep you.’

   ‘I know, Dean, but I’ll be fine.’

   ‘Ok, but, you know, I… I don’t want to hurt you. At all. I’ve already done too much of that.’ Dean was on top of him, had been kissing every part of his chest as they spoke, his tongue dipping into here or there making Cas gasp and shiver, but now he was looking at Cas’s arms, at the scars that littered his skin, some still bright and rough from the lack of stitching, others already fading into silvery-pink marks. Dean’s eyes, though shadowed in the dim lamp light, were bright green, impossibly so, like emeralds threaded with opal, and heavy with sadness, with guilt.

   ‘Dean…’ Cas began, wanting to soothe that terrible look from his hunter’s eyes but Dean pressed two fingers to his lips and shook his head, looking down and away.

   ‘Please don’t, Cas. I don’t deserve forgiveness; I don’t want it. Just… please, no matter what happens, no matter how I fuck up, and I will, I always _do_ …’ Dean’s voice cracked a little and Castiel’s heart ached and then Cas was kissing him and rolling them, pushing his hands into Dean’s hair as he pressed his lips hard against Dean’s, stopping him from talking. When he pulled away Dean opened his mouth but Cas clapped a hand over it.

   ‘Dean, I do not wish to think of our tortured past, not when the future is so wonderful ahead of us. I will not harm myself, you will not harm yourself, we will discuss anything that comes up and we will learn how to do this together. Ok?’ Cas tilted his head, waiting for Dean to nod. After a quiet grumble, Dean’s eyes relaxed and nodded, the skin crinkling around them as Cas pressed himself closer to Dean and said ‘Now, I would like for you to fuck me.’

   Cas smiled to himself as he recalled Dean’s face when he had said that, the way his pupils had blown out, drowning the green in lustful black. As he unscrewed the lid of the lube, ready to self-prep a little, Cas shuddered with anticipation at what they were about to do.

                                                             *     *     *

   Cas was on his back, panting, as Dean ran his clever hands across his body, pausing to rub his hip bones then dip into his belly button, the tongue that followed making Cas shiver as Dean made his way down to his cock. The ache low inside his body was just this side of painful as Dean wrapped a hand around him and he couldn’t help but gasp and thrust up into Dean’s hand, his eyes closing as his head fell back as Dean worked him. Cas’s breath stuttered when he felt a cool, wet finger hesitantly sliding down to rub against his hole.

   ‘Wow, Cas, you already got started huh?’ Dean said softly as he slipped a finger inside Castiel who immediately rolled his hips, his eyes shutting and mouth falling slack at the feeling. It burned a little, like a muscle under pressure will, but it felt good, too. Intimate and wonderful.

   ‘Is that ok, Cas? Does it hurt?’ Dean looked adorably uncertain as Cas took a shuddery breath in.

   ‘It feels good, Dean, I… I like it,’ Cas murmured, feeling that tell-tale warmth bloom in his cheeks at the admission, even as Dean groaned and bent to nip at his hip bones, gently moving his finger. Cas gasped then moaned as Dean pulled out, clenching around the sudden emptiness. Dean chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending sparks straight to Cas’s cock that was aching even more as Dean slowly stroked him. Just as a second finger began to breach him, Dean pulled the tip of Cas’s cock into his mouth and suckled gently, dark eyes gazing intently at Cas as he shuddered and cried out.

   ‘Oh, ah, no, I’ll, fuck me, Dean! I’ll come, stop, oh, ahhh,’ Cas scrabbled wildly at the bed covers as he tried to control himself, tried to calm the fast-rising pleasure, too quick climbing towards its peak. Dean pulled off him with a slightly smug looking half smile that was both mildly aggravating and completely endearing.

   ‘Is that ok, Cas? Is it hurting?’ Dean placed gentle biting kisses to Cas’s inner thighs as he spoke and Cas felt his skin shiver and pucker.

   ‘No, Dean, I… it’s… nnnngh,’ Cas whined, desperately.

   ‘Ok, Cas, it’s ok. How does this feel?’

   Cas felt Dean’s fingers inside him move and then Cas was keening loudly, back fully arched as white hot pleasure, almost painful in its intensity, sparked off everywhere inside his body, lighting him up inside. ‘Ahhhhhh, oh Dean, no, I’m gonna, uhhh,’ Cas gasped, just barely keeping his orgasm at bay, wanting to come with Dean inside him, not a second before.

   As the feelings receded enough for Cas to breathe, he noticed that the burning caused by Dean’s fingers was a little worse, though still not exactly painful, and realised Dean must have slipped a third inside him. Cas wiped the sweat off his brow and looked down at Dean and couldn’t help the brief burst of love and lust that popped in his chest as he saw the state of his hunter. Dean Winchester, scourge of demons and monsters, shyly biting his bottom lip as he looked at Cas through his lashes and stroked himself, his breath coming in quick pants as they looked at each other.

   ‘Dean?’

   ‘Yeah, Cas?’

   ‘I think I’m ready for you to fuck me now.’

                                                      *     *      *

   Dean had to grab the base of his cock and take a deep breath when his angel told him he was ready to be fucked. Dean couldn’t help the low growl in the back of his throat as he gently removed his fingers from Cas who whined, actually whined, and clenched, his big eyes full of want. Cas looked completely debauched, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his cock hard and steadily leaking, his ass just… _nnnnnrg, don’t fucking come yet!_

For once he was grateful for the brief interruption of the condom, rolling it down over his own aching cock, as well as the hope that it would enable him to last. That had never been a problem before, not with any of the women he’d fucked over the years, but Cas was… fucking… everything and Dean could hardly control himself as he spread a generous layer of lube over the condom, wanting to make sure Cas wouldn’t feel any pain.

   Before he could line himself up, Dean found himself pulling Cas up, kissing him ferociously, his lubed hand slipping across Cas’s back as he clutched the smaller man to him and tried to pour everything he felt and didn’t know how to say into that kiss so Cas would know, really _know_ how Dean felt and what this meant to him. Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s hair and kissed him back just as hard, teeth nipping at Dean’s bottom lip as he pulled away and gasped in some air, his forehead pressed against Cas’s, not wanting to be apart for even a second. Cas chuckled a little breathlessly and ran his hand down Dean’s left cheek, slipping the tip of his thumb into his mouth, tugging at the corner of Dean’s kiss-swollen lips. Dean turned his head and nibbled on the pad of Cas’s thumb and Cas smiled.

   ‘I love you, Dean.’

   ‘I love you, too.’

   Dean kissed Cas one more time before grabbing a pillow and slipping it underneath Cas’s ass, his fingers trembling a little as Cas eagerly spread his legs wider and made a small noise of anticipation. With one last deep breath, Dean lined himself up with Cas and slowly began to press in.

                                                            *     *     *

   Castiel’s nails dug painfully into the blanket beneath him as Dean slid inside him. He felt significantly larger than the fingers had and yet, despite the burn and the slight pain, Cas thought he had never felt anything so wonderful in all his long life. Pausing to ask if Cas was ok, Dean groaned when Cas clenched around him, his body flexing then relaxing around the intrusion, allowing Dean to slide in deeper as Cas gasped pleading nonsense, his hips lifting a little as his cock sought friction. With another low growl, Dean was buried so deep in Cas that the former angel could feel Dean’s balls, heavy with want, warm against his skin. Both men were shuddering, sweating trying to hold on.

   ‘Cas-ahhh fuck-ok, Cas, tell me, nnnrg, when I-‘

   ‘Move, Dean! Please, please move-uhhhhh.’

   In a sudden blur of sensation, Cas felt Dean begin to fuck him, tentative thrusts giving way to harder ones, Cas writhing and moaning, Dean groaning and biting at the sensitive skin on Cas’s sides. Cas dug his nails into the meat of Dean’s back, making Dean cry out and fuck into him even harder, seeking his prostate, his hands grabbing hold of Cas’s ass cheeks. Cas shifted a little, changing the angle of penetration then yelled Dean’s name as Dean nailed his prostate, over and over until Cas felt his orgasm build to the point of no return.

   ‘Ohhhhhhhh, Dean, I, fuck, yes, oh fuck, uhhh, I’m, oh Dean, Deeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaan!!!!’

                                                   *     *     *

     As soon as Cas came, screaming Dean’s name, hands clawed into the bed covers, the perfect tight heat wrapped around Dean’s cock spasmed and Dean came like a shotgun blast, vision whiting, Cas’s name on his lips, pleasure unlike anything he’d ever felt blowing out everything in his body until he collapsed, drifting in a post-orgasmic haste, too sated and weary to care about anything but wrapping around Castiel, his angel, his love, and falling into a blissful sleep, Cas’s arms slumped around him as he too drifted off.

   It was perfect.

                                                     *     *     *

   As Sam scrambled to pack a bag ready for his stay at Charlie’s, throwing in a few hunter’s essentials as he went, cutting off the sound of Charlie’s hysterical laughter coming from his phone, he marvelled again at that old adage; the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Sure, Sam had experienced the real thing and it wasn’t something to be taken lightly but, if he _ever_ walked in on Dean, naked, bending an also naked Cas over the kitchen table again, he would voluntarily find an angel to burn his eyes out and throw him into the Pit.

   Running up the stairs, bag on shoulder, hands pressed to his ears to drown out the sound of his brother fucking his ex-angel of the lord on the table where they _eat breakfast_ , Sam seriously began to consider that relocation idea. _I hear England’s nice,_ Sam thought desperately as, for the thousandth time, Castiel and Dean screamed each other’s names, the sound mercifully cut off as Sam slammed the bunker’s front door.

   With a mortified sigh, Sam got into his car, started the engine, and fled.

_My life really sucks._

                                                   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, I greatly appreciated every single one.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> ^_^


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